Witch Hunt
by Evil Shall Giggle
Summary: Ben rules the tiny, twisted Medieval village, Jack is the healer's apprentice, and Kate is the only one who remembers the plane crash. She adjusts to the primitive life and all seems to be going well, and then the witch hunts begin... Jate, SayidDanielle
1. First Glimpse

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. The twisted up version of the middle ages is mine though.

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**One**

The first thing I noticed as I regained consciousness was that my shoulder really, really hurt. I opened my eyes slowly and saw trees high above me, and a leaf plummeted slowly toward me from the canopy. Trees? But…

And then I remembered the sudden turbulence, and the oxygen masks descending from the ceiling of the plane. I remembered struggling to reach mine, and then unlocking my handcuffs. The marshal had been knocked unconscious by a flying suitcase, and as I secured the mask over my face, the orange juice I'd been drinking lifted off the table and sloshed its remaining contents onto the luggage compartments above me. I relived feeling myself being pressed against the back of my chair, and then the world darkening as we accelerated and my heart lost the ability to pump blood to my brain.

Was I dead? No, no I couldn't be. I was in too much pain to be dead. _Unless, of course, you're in hell, Kate. Then you'll be in pain for all eternity, and god knows you deserve it._

I turned my head from side to side and saw that I was in a forest. Carefully, I pushed myself to my feet and picked a direction to walk in. Surely there would be other survivors. All I had to do was find them.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been walking before I saw the first building. It was a tiny hut with a thatched roof and no windows, and I would've gone in but for the vile smell of rotting meat coming from it. A little ways ahead, I saw more dwellings and people walking around between them. I tried to call out to them for help as I felt my legs begin to give out, but no sound came from my parched throat.

Finally, I was in between the buildings, stumbling about almost as though drunk. The people avoided me like I was the plague incarnate, hustling their children into the houses as I passed by. I hardly noticed their old-fashioned dress or the strange, primitive architecture surrounding me.

I caught my foot on a rock and pitched forward, bracing myself for the impact that would surely hurt my dislocated shoulder something fierce, but it never came. A pair of arms caught me about the middle and lifted me, carrying me into one of the huts.

I was laid on a hard bed, or perhaps a table, and my rescuer left my side briefly to get something. It was dark and a little smoky in there, and there was a strange smell. An older woman emerged from the shadows and reached a weathered hand toward my face. I drew back.

"Who is this, Jack?" she asked, her voice laced with a slight accent. The man who'd carried me returned with a bandage and a dripping cloth in his hand.

"I found her outside," he replied. I looked up at his face and found it familiar, though it took me a minute to place it. Then I remembered: he'd been on the plane, sitting three rows in front of me. I'd seen him putting his luggage away.

"H-hey!" I choked, "I know you! You were on the plane! What are we doing here? Where are we? What happened?"

Jack and the older woman looked at each other. "Get the rosenaith," the woman ordered, "She is delusional."

"What?" I exclaimed, struggling to sit up, "No! I'm not! Don't you remember? The crash?" Jack disappeared again into the shadows and the old woman forced me back down with surprising strength. "Jack! I was on the plane too!"

"This is most likely going to hurt," Jack said, returning and handing the woman something. She pressed it against my forehead, dabbing at something, and it stung viciously. Jack's hands went to my shoulder and I felt the bone shift back into position. I yelled in brief pain, but then it was over and it abated somewhat.

Breathing hard, I managed to demand, "What's wrong with you people? Don't you remember?"

They ignored me, and the older woman wrapped the bandage around my head. A moment later, Jack inquired where my clothes were.

"What?" I raised my head to look down at myself. I was dressed. "I'm wearing them."

"Your proper clothes," he amended, "a woman should not wear men's clothes. Lord Benjamin will see you and be angered."

"Take these, child," said the woman, handing me a bundle of cloth. "I will help you change. Jack, go outside."

"Yes Master," he said and bowed, then exited the small hut through the door flap.

The woman aided me into a sitting position and then onto my own feet, and quickly undressed me, being careful of my shoulder. I protested, but with one arm useless, I could do little. Also, my head was beginning to feel heavy and my limbs weak as though I'd been drugged. I sagged in the woman's arms as she slid my pants down.

"No," I whispered, ashamed and a little scared.

"Hush," she replied gently, slipping my legs into the dress and pulling it up to my hips. "My name is Danielle," she told me as she gently put my arms into the garment. "I am the village healer." I said nothing, but lolled my head to the side when my muscles lost the strength to hold it up. "I have introduced myself," she said, "now it would be polite for you to tell me who you are."

"Kate…" I muttered as my eyes slipped closed, "Kate Austen…"

"Good girl," Danielle murmured and eased me back onto the cot. "Now, sleep."


	2. Hunting and Meeting Ben

**Two**

I woke to a crow's cawing. Daylight poured into the hut through a tiny window set high up, near the ceiling, and cracks in the walls glowed white in the darkness. I was lying on a hard bed, in a room with two others just like it.

I felt disoriented until a baby's scream from my right made me jump and recalled memories of yesterday, and I swung my legs off the bed to go investigate. I passed through a door made of what felt like animal skin and belatedly noticed that I had used my injured arm to push the flap aside, but it hadn't hurt. Surprised, I shifted the neckline of my dress to look at it and found no indication of bruising, just a thin strip of cloth holding a clump of leaves to the skin. My head itched and my fingers met another bandage when I reached up to scratch it.

The baby that had been the source of the cry was in the main room of the hut, with both Jack and Danielle hovering over it. Another woman, young with blond hair, stood by, looking worried.

"Will he be alright?" she asked, arms wrapped defensively around her middle.

"I don't know," said Jack. "He's got a fever."

"And a cough," Danielle added when the baby made a strange choking noise. "Did you take him into the woods?"

"Only a little," the young woman replied, biting her lip, "I went to go pick flowers and Charles was busy, so I took Aaron with me. I didn't think—"

"Apparently not," Danielle said harshly. "You know that the sickness comes from the forest."

"He'll be okay, Claire," Jack assured the young woman, giving a pointed look to Danielle as if to say, 'Don't be so cruel'. Danielle smiled faintly at him and smeared a brownish paste on the baby's chest, and held it there with a bandage.

"There," she said, picking him up and cradling him briefly. I saw a look of sad longing cross her face, but it was gone was fast as it had come as she handed the child to his mother. Claire clutched him to her chest protectively and thanked the two healers, then left the hut.

"Master, with all due respect—" Jack began, but Danielle cut him off with a raised hand.

"I know," she said. "But she was silly enough to make the mistake once and had I not corrected her, she would have done it again." She turned and saw me standing in the doorway. "Ah. Good morning, Katherine."

"It's Kate," I corrected her uneasily. A sickness coming from the forest? By this time, I'd reasoned with myself that this must all be some crazy dream, and by doing so, had accepted it somewhat as reality. My body was probably lying in some hospital, in a coma or something. _Ah well, _I thought fatalistically, _better this creepy medieval village than nothing at all._

"No," Danielle said firmly, "it is Katherine."

"Lord Benjamin disapproves of shortened forms of names," Jack explained quickly when it looked like I was going to retort.

"Who's Lord Benjamin?" I asked, forgiving Danielle for calling me by the name that brought back bad memories. Jack looked at his master.

"He is the village leader," Danielle said forebodingly, "and he is very dangerous. It is best to stay away from him."

There was a short silence, and Jack was the one to break it. "Are you hungry? You slept in quite a bit. It is almost midday."

"No," I said, but he brought me a piece of bread and a carrot anyway.

"You need to eat," he said.

"Thanks," I smiled and took a bite of the bread. It was coarse and stale, and had a very unpleasant taste, but my stomach rumbled at it and I realized just how hungry I actually was. The rest of the food disappeared quickly and Jack chuckled.

"Where are you from?" he asked conversationally, leaning his elbows on the table in the middle of the room.

"I was on the plane from—" I began to say, but then thought better of it. No one here seemed to know anything about the present, or the future, or reality, or… well, no one here seemed to know any thing about my world. "I'm from Canada," I answered finally, evasively.

"I have never heard of that town," Jack commented, "Is it far from here?"

"Uh, yes," I said, "yes, it's very far."

"How did you end up here?" he asked, "Travelling? Perhaps a pilgrimage?"

"I got lost," I lied, "while hunting."

"Then perhaps you will join me," Danielle said.

"Pardon?" I asked, though I'd heard, "Go hunting?"

"Yes, of course," she responded, her back turned to me and her hands busy fitting what looked like a crossbow with an arrow. "If you are confident enough to go out by yourself, you must be very skilled. I would like a partner. Jack has no talent for it, _and_ he does not like it, so I am usually alone." She turned around and held the weapon out to me, slinging another over her shoulder. I took it cautiously.

"Alright," I agreed. How hard could it be?

Very hard, I soon discovered. Danielle laughed at my clumsy attempts to shoot a rabbit, and let the lie I'd told slip. We rested down at a small stream, sitting down, drinking the fresh water, and talking. She was kind, albeit a little strange, and I learned that she'd been forced to move here with her infant daughter from a neighbouring country after being accused of witchcraft for her healing skills. I began to ask where her daughter was now, but approaching hoof beats interrupted me.

"Hide," Danielle told me quietly, but firmly.

"What?" I questioned, turning to look at her, but she had disappeared. "Danielle?"

The horses drew closer and then came into view. They stopped when they saw me, and three men in armour dismounted and walked toward me. I backed away slightly, wishing I hadn't set my crossbow down on an out-of-reach rock.

"You!" shouted one of the men. He was not tall, but not short either, with a long cape draped over one shoulder and was obviously the leader of the two others, who looked like guards. "What are you doing out here? This is far beyond the boundaries. You know the risks!"

"I'm sorry," I said, making my legs to bend into a sort of klutzy curtsey and added, "sir."

His gloved hand grabbed my chin and forced my face up. "Hm," he sniffed, "I do not recognize you. Are you from the village?" He was strange looking, with wide eyes and a sharp nose.

"I'm just," I struggled to say; his grip hurt, "passing through."

"On your way to where, I wonder?" he questioned, then laughed. "Doesn't matter. You've a pretty face, girl. Come to the fort tomorrow, and I'll make it worth your trouble."

With that, he whirled away and strode back to his horse and leapt up onto it. He turned back to glance at me and I felt rather than saw his eyes rove over my body, and then he dug his spurs into the poor animal's sides and they were off. Once they were out of sight, Danielle reappeared at my side.

"Where the hell did you go?" I demanded angrily.

"I told you to hide," she said evenly, "but you did not listen. Now Benjamin knows you." She cast a dark look in the direction he'd gone. "Do not go to his castle," she instructed me firmly. "Do not go."

"Wh—" I was about to ask why when a loud screeching noise cut me off. Danielle whipped around, crossbow up, looking for the source, and I instinctively took a step backward. The noise continued, and in the distance we could see trees falling. We looked at each and took off running simultaneously, me following her toward the village. Once inside the town's boundaries, we turned to look with the other villagers who'd come outside when they'd heard the sound.

Murmurs of 'what is it?' and 'what's happening?' drifted about among the crowd. Jack came up beside me and Danielle.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked her.

"It is the forest's defence," she said simply. I stared at her until she spun on her heel abruptly and marched back to her hut. Jack and I took one last look at the falling trees and trailed after her.

"How do you know?" I demanded.

She smiled. "I have been here for a long time," she said. "I lived in the forest for many years before I moved into this village. There are many things I know that you do not." She took the crossbow from my hand and hung it up on the wall, and took the string of rabbits she'd killed from her shoulder and set it down on the counter, where she proceeded to cut them open. I looked away, repulsed, as she separated flesh from bone.

Jack helped her and they chatted about various things from the difference between two herbs to the thing in the forest. She wouldn't say exactly what it was, and I suspected that she didn't actually know.


	3. Of Swimming and Dancing

**Three**

The next day, it seemed as though it had gone unspoken that I would be staying with the two healers indefinitely. Danielle deemed that it was long past time that we all had a bath and led us out of the village and to a stream, larger than the one we'd visited yesterday and closer to town. She and Jack seemed to have grown used to my oddities and frequent lapses of knowledge in certain areas, just as I was growing used to wearing dresses and walking barefoot.

Jack was the first in, stripping off his tunic and wading in, wearing just his trousers. Danielle had brought light slips for us to wear, and we changed into them behind a thick-trunked tree and then joined him. I froze when my feet touched the water; it was icy! Shivering, I slowly moved in, allowing myself all the time in the world to adjust before taking my next step forward.

By the time I was up to my waist, Danielle was out in the middle of the small river, paddling about and giving Jack instructions on how to stay afloat. I noticed she kept a careful eye out for anyone else, but I couldn't think of why. Getting my bellybutton under was the hardest part, and once I'd done that, I took a deep breath and plunged under. I came up shivering and gasping, but immediately sank down again because suddenly the water felt warmer than the air. I swam out to join the older woman in the middle of the stream, feeling slightly weighted down by the light dress, and submerged myself, opening my eyes under the water and stroking around playfully. It had been so long since I'd had the time to take the luxury of swimming…

"You are skilled," Danielle commented when I surfaced for air. I grinned.

"Where I come from," I explained, "I got a lot of practice." I slipped under and dove for the bottom and then came up again. "But it's been a while. It feels really nice to get back in the water again."

She nodded, but warned, "You must be careful. Here, knowing how to swim is proof of sorcery."

"Proof of…" I trailed off, incredulous, "You mean there are witch hunts going on?"

"Yes," Jack said solemnly. "Just three months ago, a woman from this village was burned at the stake for witchcraft."

"Per Benjamin's orders," Danielle added. I wondered what year it was, but didn't ask. I didn't want to raise more questions about where I'd come from. I glanced at Danielle's face and saw that sad look in her eyes again. It seemed to appear whenever Benjamin was mentioned, and, as always, it vanished swiftly as she blinked and turned her attention to Jack's swimming.

Weeks slipped away as if they were seconds. I found myself becoming ever closer to Jack and Danielle, thinking of the first as a good friend and the second almost as a second mother, or an older sister. I learned to heal, learned which herbs did what, and to bandage a cut, to soothe a fever, and to settle a cough. I lost count of the days but realized I didn't care.

One morning, while we ate breakfast, a young girl came running to us, a small dog in her arms and tears streaming down her dirty cheeks. She held the animal out to Danielle, who took it gingerly and laid it on the table.

"W-we were playing," the little girl sobbed, clutching the folds of my dress, "he t-tripped in a rabbit hole…"

I wrapped my arms around her and held her close. "He'll be alright," I told her as sincerely as I could, but even I could tell that the dog's leg was broken, and broken bones were hard to fix, especially among animals.

Nonetheless, Jack and Danielle were bustling about, making poultices and smearing them on bandages, which they then wrapped around the dog's injured leg, holding the bone in its proper place, while I comforted his owner.

"Leave him with us for a few weeks, Cynthia," Danielle said, wiping her hands on her dress and bending down to speak to the girl at her eyelevel. "He will be alright, but he needs rest and proper care."

Cynthia nodded tearfully. "Thank you," she whispered shyly.

"You're welcome," Danielle said, and ushered the girl out, telling her to come visit anytime. Once she was out of earshot, I turned to the two skilled healers.

"Will he be okay?" I asked, moving to look down at the dog lying on the table, his leg tightly bound.

"I believe so," said Danielle. "I have successfully healed broken legs before, but there have also been times when it has not worked. There is still the chance of infection."

I took another look at the poor creature and ran my hand lightly over its fur, tickling it behind the ear. It opened one eye to look at me, and then closed it again, too tired to move at all.

Cynthia returned a few days later with a basket of apples from her father's tree and some potatoes for us, as payment for the dog's care. We ate several of the apples for breakfast, delighting in their sharp taste. It made us all so happy, just to have a simple change in our diet, and I looked around at Jack's and Danielle's faces. Jack was laughing at something she had said, and Danielle's eyes danced with merriment.

I caught a glimpse back in time, in a moment peeling away years of hardship from her face and saw how beautiful she must have once been. She still was quite pretty, in a way that only age can bestow, and despite the trials of her life in this dreary place, her eyes were still bright. They reminded me of my own, greyish but changeable, often wandering into the realms of blue and green, and they shone at me with kindness and affection.

Jack's face, too, was careworn and tired looking, but he had a kind mouth and eyebrows, and his dark eyes were always warm when they looked at me. I smiled, content, and took another bite of my apple.

That night, there was to be a festival. The decorations had been going up for days and many of the village women were busy baking. It was, Jack told me, to celebrate Midsummer's Eve. There would be lots of food and drink, music, and dancing late into the night. I went about my daily chores (washing bandages and clothes in the bathing stream, cleaning the table, and gathering herbs with either Jack or Danielle) with my heart filled with anticipation.

Finally, it came time to get ourselves ready for the festivities. We went down to the stream for a quick wash and then dressed in our most brightly coloured garments and ran a comb through our hair—a rare occurrence. Dusk was beginning to fall as we left the house to head down to the marketplace where music was already playing.

Cloth streamers had been hung from the terraces and torches were everywhere, keeping the area well lit. Almost as soon as we entered, Jack turned, looking as though he wanted to ask me something, but never got the chance for James Sawyer, a local merchant who'd taken a liking to me, swept over and pulled me off for a dance. I looked back over my shoulder as James led me away by the hand and caught sight of Jack looking wistfully after me and Danielle laughing at him good-naturedly. I gave him an apologetic wave and then launched myself into a clumsy attempt at a lively dance, holding hands with James and then pulling away, spinning, and joining up with him again, and so on. By the time the music stopped, I was out of breath and dizzy, and made my way back to where Jack and Danielle stood.

"You looked like you had fun," Jack said, rather sullenly.

"Yes," I said, ignoring his tone and smiling. My cheeks felt flushed and my insides were still out there dancing, but I was happier than I'd been in a long time. Jack was gloomily silent. "Aw come on," I said, tugging his arm, "Let's get something to eat."

We did, making our way—arm in arm—to the food tables, where we took healthy helpings of mashed potatoes and meat. I took a mug of beer, but Jack refused, telling me that his father had been a drunk and that he would never repeat it. This, of course, made me feel rather guilty about drinking in front of him, and so I set the beverage back on the table before I'd taken a sip and took a cup of water instead. We sat down at the tables, and Danielle joined us a moment later with a plate covered in meats and potatoes, like ours. We took our time eating it, savouring each bite for the delicacy it was.

When we'd finished, Jack visibly summoned his courage and asked me for a dance.

"Of course," I said, grinning and offering him my hand ceremoniously. He smiled shyly and brought it to his lips. I felt goose bumps rise on my skin at the electric contact.

We walked together out onto the dance floor as the small group of musicians started up another lively piece. It was a similar dance to the one I'd done with James, and I was once again thankful to Claire's dancing lessons that she'd given me when we'd both had spare time. I caught the young woman's eye as she spun around with Charles and grinned. She returned the expression cheerfully and whooped lightly as her partner bent her backwards.

When the song ended, we returned to our seats at a leisurely pace, talking and laughing and completely in our own world. That is, until we saw a handsome, dark skinned man deep in conversation with Danielle.

"Who is that?" I asked, curious. He looked faintly familiar… I had to struggle place him as the man who'd been seated one row ahead of me on the airplane. It surprised me to remember the airplane; it all seemed like such a faraway dream, as if none of it had ever really happened and this had been my reality all along.

"Sayid Jarrah," Jack told me, "a travelling merchant. He usually passes through here every few months."

He stood out among the locals, with his head of curly black hair and deep brown skin. Granted, none of the villagers were pale, but tonight we were all much whiter than usual due to the baths that we'd all taken.

We slowed our pace to allow them more time to speak in private, taking a detour to the food tables and taking a couple slices of apple. Playfully, I put one into Jack's mouth. He blushed profusely, but did the same to me. We laughed, our mouths full and enjoying the company, and meandered back towards our table just in time to see Sayid take Danielle's hand with a bow and bring her into another dance.

We sat down and I leaned against Jack's shoulder as we watched the dancers. There was Claire, up again with Charles while Jin and Sun, a gypsy couple who were regulars at the village, played with little Aaron. James had found another partner, a dark-hair woman whom I didn't know. Hugo, the cheerful and enormously overweight owner of the clothing store, was dancing with his fiancé Elizabeth. I saw Danielle laughing openly with a pure, youthful joy that I'd never seen in her before as Sayid twirled her about, her long hair streaming out behind her. Jack's fingers toyed gently with the curling strands of my hair.

The night died down slowly. Charles and Claire were the first to retire to put Aaron to bed, and Hugo and Elizabeth went shortly after. Gradually, the crowd thinned out, couple after couple returning to their homes to sleep… _or not_, I thought with a crooked smile as I watched a young, lip-locked pair stagger off towards a house. I'd danced so many times with Jack that I'd lost count, and I didn't think that Sayid and Danielle had sat out more than two songs. As a group, we headed off to our little hut on the outskirts, and Jack and I went inside while Danielle remained outside to say farewell to Sayid. We watched them though a crack in the wall, sharing mischievous grins.

They were speaking quietly, too quietly for us to hear, and though I pressed my ear against the wall in an attempt to pick up some of it, I was unsuccessful. Jack laughed silently at my antics. Sayid put her hand to his lips tenderly and she said something that made him smile. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and let his hand rest against her cheek. She was silent, watching him, while we watched her. He moved quickly and caught her lips with his.

I pulled away from the peephole and smiled at Jack in the darkness of the room. "Good night," I whispered and retreated to the bedroom to change. He waited until I gave him the go ahead, and then entered when I was lying on the hard, straw mattress, my face to the wall while he changed into his sleep clothes.

"Good night," he murmured, and then added, in an even softer tone as though it were a forbidden word, "Kate."


	4. Taken

_Yours truly has a broken leg. Cheer her up. Leave a review._

**Four**

Two weeks later, we took the cast off of Cynthia's dog's leg and I was sent to fetch his owner. She beamed like the sun when the animal took three wobbling steps toward her.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed and launched herself onto Danielle. The older woman looked startled, and then wrapped her arms around the child. I saw in her face the love of a mother and wondered not for the first time what had happened to her daughter.

"You are very welcome," she said, one hand stroking Cynthia's tangled gold hair.

Just as the girl went to leave, carrying her dog, there was a loud roar, followed by a piercing scream. We rushed outside to see a huge white bear lumbering into the marketplace, far from our hut. People were fleeing in all directions, overturning baskets and stalls. It caught someone, but from where we were, it was impossible to tell who. Armed men came running into the square moments later, holding crossbows aloft. The bear reeled, standing on its hind paws and clawing the air, and we could see the men reloading their bows. The beast charged and trampled one of them, catching another in its jaws, and then stumbled drunkenly to one side, to the other, and finally fell.

Gradually, people began to crowd around. We left the house to join them, Cynthia clinging tightly to Danielle's hand and to her dog in her other arm. It was a fairly long walk, and by the time we arrived, almost all the village had encircled the bear.

Lord Benjamin was there, looking on as his men dragged the arrow-ridden corpse away. People were questioning what it was, and where it had come from, but he ignored them. He caught sight of me and pushed his way toward me. Danielle slipped away before he got near enough to see her, losing herself in the crowd.

"Hello again," he greeted me. I curtseyed politely, knowing better than to give him any attitude. "Have you been considering my offer?"

"Yes, my lord," I said to the ground.

"And?" he questioned.

"I have decided to decline, my lord," I said, still looking down. Though I could not see his face, I could tell he was angry.

"Thompson, Allen!" he barked. Metal clattered on metal and two new sets of boots came into my field of view. "Take her to the fort."

Two hands clamped onto my arms and pulled. I twisted, trying to break free. "No!" I cried, pulling uselessly. I looked pleadingly over my shoulder at Jack, but he stood helpless, watching me be taken away. "Jack! Jack, help! Do something!" He couldn't do anything, though, or risk harsh punishment, and I watched as his form got smaller and smaller as I was dragged, quite literally kicking and screaming, to the fort.

They pulled me inside and up several flights of stairs, and finally deposited me onto a cold stone floor and shut the door. I heard a heavy bolt slide into place but I flung myself at the door nonetheless, beating my fists against the wood and yelling. "Let me out! You can't do this! Let me out!"

"It's useless," said a soft voice from behind me. I whipped about to face a young blond woman in a simple dress. She was pretty, with clear blue eyes and sharp features.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"My name is Juliet," she told me, going over to the fireplace and poking at the glowing logs. "I am Lord Benjamin's maid. You are Katherine, are you not?"

"How do you—"

"He speaks of you often," she said, blowing on the embers to restart the fire. "You may as well get comfortable; Lord Benjamin will come soon." She took a tray from the mantle. "Tea?"

"What? No," I shook my head and moved to the couch, which wasn't nearly as soft as it appeared.

"He will prefer you to wear this." Juliet held out a light white dress. I stared at it.

"Well you may tell him that I will do no such—"

"No such what?" queried a voice from the door. I turned to see Benjamin standing there. "Ah, Katherine. So nice of you to come." He turned to his maid. "Juliet, please leave."

She curtseyed low and swept out the door, closing it behind her. A moment later, a knock came and Ben barked out a "Yes?"

A young woman pushed the door halfway open and looked through, and then began to close it again. "I'll come back—"

"No, Alexandra," Ben caught her as she retreated, "Come in. I'd like you to meet Katherine."

The woman entered, and I saw that she was, in actuality, little more than a child, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. She had long dark hair, and very familiar eyes. I stared at her, trying to place her face, but the only thing I could come up with was Danielle. Then it occurred to me: _Danielle. Of course._ This woman-child was my friend's daughter, stolen from her as an infant.

Alexandra curtseyed to me and I returned it. "Katherine," said Ben, "This is my daughter, Alexandra."

_His_ daughter? I stopped myself from frowning in confusion. There could be no mistake, Alex was Danielle's child, but she'd told me that she had come to this village with her baby, which would imply that she had not known Ben before now. So he must be lying, but Alex wouldn't know it. I made a silent vow to myself to free her and return her to her mother.

"Did you want something?" Ben asked Alex.

"Yes, Father," she said politely and moved to whisper in the older man's ear. His eyes darkened.

"Thank you," he said formally and strode out the door. I could see him in the corridor outside, talking to a guard. "Put her downstairs," he ordered, and spun on his heel and went out of my sight. The guard came into the room and grabbed me roughly by the arm, very much in the same manner in which I'd been brought into this place. He pulled me callously through the hallways at a run, so fast I hardly had time to look around. I caught glimpses of many doors, all closed, and then almost fell down the stairs when I tried to look out a tiny window.

Finally, we slowed, and I got a chance to register my surroundings. It was dark, darker than the other rooms, and cold, and the floor beneath my bare feet was slimy stone. Other than that, I could see little, but I could hear keys rattling, and then the door in front of us swung open. He shoved me through and I fell, landing hard on my hands and knees. As I scrambled back up, the door slammed shut and took with it the only light, leaving me in pitch blackness.

I lost track of time very quickly. It seemed to crawl by as I sat there, the darkness playing tricks on my eyes as shadows danced on the edges of my vision, with only my own voice to keep me company. At first, I'd counted seconds aloud, and when I gave that up, the silence pressed on my ears almost painfully. I endured for a while, and then began to talk.

I said hello to marshal who'd been with me on the plane, told him that I hoped he was okay, that he really wasn't such a bad guy once you got past the no-bullshit-will-be-tolerated-so-don't-even-think-about-it exterior. I had a very much one way conversation with Jack and Danielle, asking them how things were and wondering if they'd come after me. Then, when I ran out of things to say, I was left with my demons and dancing shadows.

I think I drifted off to sleep at one point, but being as there was no difference between open and closed eyes, it was hard to tell. Then my mother walked into the dungeon, in her waitress uniform.

"Hello Katherine," she said and sat down in front of me.

"M-mom?" I whispered. "What—how—?"

She just kept smiling. My father, the real one, the one I'd killed all that time ago joined her.

"Hullo Kate," he said. He was horribly mangled, scarred and burned, barely recognizable. "So, how long has it been? One… no, two years?"

Two years? Had it truly been that long?

My fake father, the kind one, plunked himself down beside my mother. "Hey Katie," he said. I felt my eyes burn with tears to see his face again and I reached out a hand to him. He took it. "How are you?" His grip tightened, becoming painful to the point where I thought my bones might break. I twisted, trying to free myself.

"Stop—"

"Stop what?" he asked lightly.

Tom came in and sat down. I gasped, still in pain from my hand, and stung even more to see him. He smiled warmly at me. "Hey Kate," he said softly and touched my cheek. My father released my hand and I clutched it to me, nursing the poor thing. Tom leaned in to kiss me but stopped suddenly, and I stared in horror as blood left a crimson trail from his mouth to his chin.

More and more people appeared, each with the wound I'd given them. Gunshots, knives… even the marshal who I'd just been 'talking to' appeared, bleeding badly from a cut on his head and from a piece of shrapnel in his leg. They leaned toward me as one, a thousand bloodstained hands reaching for me.

I screamed, and the nightmare vanished.


	5. Witch Trial

_To the kind person who left a review on the last chapter but didn't leave a name: thank you. You did cheer me up, and this chapter is being posted so quickly because you asked for it. Please keep reviewing!_

**Five**

The door to my cell was flung open, nearly blinding me with what I once would have considered faint light. I shut my eyes and twisted against the wall, knees tucked up to my chest and hands shielding my face. What sounded like a body was thrown into the dungeon, and then the door slammed shut again.

I heard the noise of someone crawling, their hands feeling about in the dark.

"Hello?" I questioned warily.

"Kate?" It was Danielle, and I did not fail to miss the fact that she did not call me Katherine. Her hands found my leg and from there, my face. I held onto her, clutching her arms and then pulling her into a hug.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered into her hair.

"I have been declared a witch," she told me.

"What?" I exclaimed, drawing back. "Why?"

"That dog," she explained. "An animal's broken bone is 'unfixable'. It was an act of sorcery to heal it." She paused. "Has Ben hurt you?" There she went with the shortened names again. It was as though she no longer feared the village leader's wrath enough to evade using them.

"No," I replied. The mention of Ben reminded me of Alex. "Danielle, you said you had a daughter, right?"

"Yes," she said, sounding slightly wary.

"Her name… it wasn't Alexandra, was it?" I tried to phrase it as gently as I could. She'd just been accused of witchcraft. If I was wrong in assuming that the girl I'd seen was her daughter and yet told her that I'd found her child, it would be crushing.

"Alex…" she breathed. "How could you know? Have you seen her? Is she alright?"

"I saw her," I replied. "She's fine. She thinks Ben is her father, but she's fine."

Danielle let out a long stream of words I couldn't understand, varying from relieved-sounding to angry and all the way to agonizingly sad. I stretched out my hands to find hers and held them tightly.

"We'll get her out of here," I promised. "We'll free her."

"Thank you," came the replying whisper from the dark.

She didn't tell me that they were going to 'try' her until what I suppose must have been the next day. I'd taken Grade Four history, I knew what witch trials entailed, and when a guard came to take me out of the cell, I knew I'd never speak to her again.

He granted us a last moment, out of pity, I suppose. There we were, two wretches, one of us condemned to death. I held onto her tightly, not willing to let go. Over the many months I'd lived with her and Jack, she had become the kind mother I'd never had, and I think I loved her as a daughter loves a parent.

"After I am gone, you will have three options," she whispered in my ear, her voice hurried but not hysterical. "Run, hide, or die. There is nothing else; you must leave this town. Take Jack. Get as far away as you can. Do not let them find you. Do you understand? _Do not let them find you!_"

"Time to go," the guard said gruffly, grabbing me by the collar and jerking me roughly away from Danielle. I stretched out a hand and my fingers brushed hers just one last time, and then I was out of the cell and the door swung shut behind me.

I was allowed to return to our hut. Jack hardly moved when I entered.

"They took Danielle," he told me softly. I raised my eyes but not my head to stare at him.

"I know," I said flatly and spun on my heel to face the wall so I could regain some semblance my composure.

"Her trial is this afternoon."

"I know," I repeated.

"Kate—"

"Not you too!" I cried, whipping about. "_She_ has nothing to fear from them anymore, that's why she called me Kate! You still have your life, so don't you _dare_ call me that!"

"She still has hers!" he retorted, taking me by the shoulders. "She can swim, Kate, she'll be fine! She'll just go under and hold her breath until they're gone, and then she'll come back up."

* * *

Time dragged on slowly for the rest of the morning. We were numb, both wishing we were in our own little worlds, but we were very much stuck in the horrible reality. I made lunch but neither of us ate it. It was still sitting on the table when the trumpets sounded from the town.

We jumped up and were out of the house so fast the door flap swung in the breeze we made. We ran the distance into the town centre—the marketplace—and were two of the first people there. A moment later, a procession of soldiers appeared, marching down from the fort. Between the two leaders was a slight figure in a dirty green dress. As they got closer, more and more people accumulated in the square.

The person in green was, of course, Danielle. When they were close enough for me to see clearly, I noticed for the first time how frail she looked. Her skin was pale but filthy, her torn dress hung off her sinewy frame, and her cheeks were hollow. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead as they marched her past us, never deviating from her direction.

The citizens moved as one to follow the parade, and we all made our way through the woods to a small, horseshoe-shaped bay on the bathing river. As we arranged ourselves along the sides, Ben began to speak.

"We gather here today to try Danielle Rousseau for the crime of witchcraft," he said flatly. There was total quiet as we listened. Jack's hand found mine. "There was overwhelming proof that she is a witch, but I am not heartless. She will be given another chance to prove herself innocent. This is it."

Alex appeared at Ben's side, looking disdainful, and I saw Danielle's face change as she saw daughter for the first time in sixteen years. Ben smiled coldly at the woman's expression and made a signal with his right hand. A soldier standing beside Danielle, holding one of her arms, released his hold, and the one on her other side gave her a sharp push from behind.

She tumbled forward off the ledge and fell the six or so feet into the water. She did not yell in fright or surprise, and she did not struggle to stay afloat. She simply turned her head up to look at Alex and sunk under. The water closed over her head and was still, her form just a quickly fading shadow in the murk.

"Witch, witch, witch," began the chant. "_Witch, witch, witch, witch, witch…"_ It continued, the villagers' voices becoming one to condemn Danielle to hell. Minutes dragged on and Jack and I stood in silence, watching the water. Finally, when I'd counted one hundred and eighty heartbeats, I screamed for her.

"You _bastard!_" I shrieked at Ben, but it was lost in the crowd's chanting I felt Jack's arms around me, holding me back when I tried to throw myself into the water too, to either save Danielle or to swim to Ben to kill him.

He picked me up and I flailed, kicking my legs out and struggling to free my arms, which he had pinned down as he carried me backwards, out of the main press of the crowd. "Let me go!" I shouted, twisting and jerking until he did.

I spun to face him and pounded my fists against him. "You said she would swim!" I screamed hysterically, hardly aware of the tears on my face, "You _said she would swim!_ _Why didn't she swim? JACK!"_

"If she had swum," he told me, matching my loudness with his softness, though there were tears on his cheeks too, "she would've been burned. This way, she is proved not guilty of witchcraft, and so are we."

I stared up at him, stopping my barrage of frenzied punches. "What?" It was a barely audible whisper.

"If she'd been proved a witch," he explained shakily, "we would, by association, also have been condemned."

I shook my head. No, I wouldn't let someone sacrifice themselves for me; I didn't deserve it. And then I looked at Jack, and realized that even if I hadn't deserved it, he had.

"Jack," I breathed, stretching my hands up and holding his face, "Jack…"

He brought me to his chest and I stood limply against him. I could feel his heart beating, a gentle _lub-ub, lub-ub_, so very much alive, and it made a fresh wave of tears come.

People gradually filtered away from the bay and back to the village as a gentle rain began to fall, and eventually, it was just me and Jack. I looked down at the water and closed my eyes. Danielle was floating, face down, on the surface, arms and legs spread like an abandoned doll.

Long after Jack and I had retired to a restless sleep and the moon dodged clouds high above the treetops, Sayid returned to the water. He dove in and swam out to the middle, where Danielle still lay. He retrieved her and brought her back to the shore, pushing her dripping hair from her face and straightening her dress. He closed her eyes gently and brushed a finger over her purple lips, forcing himself to smile to keep back his tears.

It didn't work.


	6. Flight

**Six**

There was a funeral the next day, but not for Danielle. Ben had passed away suddenly during the night, with no outward signs of the cause. The town's eyes turned to Jack and me, believing that it had been our fault, that we had poisoned him somehow. My name was whispered in particular, with comments on the bears and the thing in the woods and how they'd only started after I'd arrived. We did our best to ignore the murmurings, but it was obvious we were no longer welcome in the village, and when it was decided that we were to be tried for witchcraft, we decided it was time to go.

We left in the middle of the night, struggling to find the familiar paths in the moonless night and each of us with a light pack, full of simple provisions, on our back. I carried a knife on my belt and there was a crossbow (with which I'd greatly improved) tied onto my satchel.

We breathed sighs of relief when we passed beyond the village boundaries without being seen, but were still careful about where we stepped. Going barefoot, it was easy enough to avoid twigs or piles of dry leaves, but a slippery puddle of mud was not so easily picked up. I lost my balance only once, but was saved from a loud fall by Jack, who caught my arm and pulled me back up.

Once we'd crossed the bathing river, we knew we were out of earshot, and took of at a run. I was exceedingly glad I'd traded my dress in for a pair of breeches as we bounded over fallen logs and ditches. We slowed to a walk after a couple of minutes to catch our breath.

"Where are we going to go?" I asked, my voice quiet though we were without risk of being overheard. "Are there any other towns nearby?"

"Not nearby," Jack replied in an equally soft tone. "There is one, Trenton, about thirty miles north. It's the closest; we should head for it."

I looked up at the sky. Clouds were moving in, covering the stars bit by bit. "How are we supposed to know which way is north?" I asked. I'd never been one for stellar navigation, but I knew how to find the North Star, and none of the pointer stars were to be seen. It was also far too dark for Jack to use his compass.

He tilted his head back to look up as well. "We left the village heading north. It's unlikely that we've gotten too far off course already." He lowered his gaze and squinted at our surroundings. "I know where we are. I've been out here before, hunting. We can sleep over there—" he pointed at what looked simply like a large dark shape "—it's a small cave. Soon it'll be too dark to continue anyway."

We felt our way toward it as more and more stars were covered by the encroaching clouds and our light faded into almost nothing. It was a cave, as he'd said, and it was small. _Very_ small. It was only high enough for us to sit, and it was barely deep enough to shelter us entirely.

I listened to Jack rummage about in his pack and then shift some leaves around on the ground. A moment later, I heard the noise of flint being struck, and sparks jumped into the air, briefly illuminating the small pile of twigs he'd apparently just collected.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked, "Won't someone see it?"

"It's the middle of the night," he replied, striking the flint again. This time, it caught and the pile ignited quickly, and I could see his face again. "and we're at least two miles from the village. There's no one out here."

It was true. Even if there was someone nearby, chances were they'd be there for hunting, and would be asleep right now anyway.

Jack crawled out of the cave to grab a larger log and put it onto the small blaze. I smiled, stretching my hands out towards it to warm them. It was nice to have light again. It occurred to me that I could also warm some food with the fire, and I dug some pieces of dried meat out of my bag. I set them down near the fire's edge, not too close, and kept a careful eye on them.

"Want some?" I asked.

"Sure," Jack nodded and grinned. "Feels like a regular campfire."

"Yeah," I said, knowing just how far from regular it was. I thought back to our village, to Danielle, and then to Alex. I hadn't returned her to her mother; I'd broken my vow. On the other hand, with Ben dead, she was free to do as she wished, but she would never know who her mother truly was, and she would never think of Danielle as anything other than a witch.

I rubbed my forehead tiredly, berating myself for not somehow acting faster. There had to have been some way that I could've saved Danielle. A hand brushed mine and I looked up to see Jack watching me concernedly. "I'm okay," I assured him. "Just thinking."

There was a sudden screeching noise from the forest, not too far away, and then the unmistakeable sound of a tree falling. We froze.

"I think…" I breathed, staring wide-eyed into the impenetrable darkness outside the tiny cave, "that the fire… was a bad idea…"

"I agree," Jack whispered back tersely. As quickly and quietly as we could, we heaped dirt onto the burning log until the flames had been smothered. The screeching continued and trees continued to fall, getting closer and closer. We held perfectly still, not even breathing.

Then, suddenly, when it seemed so close that it must have been right outside, the screeching stopped and was replaced by a strange sound, similar to a helicopter heard through earplugs. It floated eerily to us, undulating and going back and forth from left to right. It began to fade, and the screeching and thuds like the footsteps of giants began again, but in the direction away from us.

For a long time after we couldn't hear it anymore, we didn't move. It must have been at least fifteen minutes later that I finally had the courage (or the stupidity) to ask in a voice barely above the audible threshold, "Do you think it's gone?"

I shouldn't have asked. The question, born of hope that the thing was gone, was a jinx.

The ground outside the cave exploded as though a huge fist had been pounded into it. I screamed and pushed myself as far into the back of the hollow as I could get. The screeching was right on top of us, threatening to shatter our eardrums.

The worst part was, I think, not being able to see. Had it been day, or even a night with a moon, it would not have been half as frightening. Well, perhaps it would have, but being, for all intensive purposes, blind was absolutely terrifying.

The thing hit the ground above us twice, making the low ceiling tremble worrisomely. That strange helicopter sound returned briefly, and then it disappeared into silence as suddenly as it had come.

My hand, I noticed belatedly, was underneath Jack's. He squeezed it tightly as we stayed frozen in terror, and I could feel him shaking. Or, perhaps it was me that was that was shaking. It didn't matter. We were both petrified, and neither of us dared move until the tinges of dawn's light had brightened all the way into day.

My entire body ached as I pushed myself out of the cave and up to my feet. Jack groaned quietly as he straightened up, stretching out his back. We were reluctant to bend down again to pick up our packs, but did so and set them on our backs against our bodies' complaints.

Using Jack's compass as our guide, we continued on our way at a walk, slowly working out the kinks that had accumulated as we stayed still for the night, sitting on hard rock. It was a cool, grey day, with smatterings of rain every so often. After what was probably three hours or so, we stopped for lunch beside a tiny brook.

I knelt beside the water and used my cupped hands to bring it to my mouth, drinking gratefully. After I'd finished, I rocked back on my heels and opened my bag. I took out a piece of bread (which was so stale it was nearly as hard as the dried meat I took out next) and gnawed on it. Jack laughed as I stuck it in the side of my mouth, using my back teeth for more effect.

"This really isn't very good," I commented redundantly.

"No, I'd imagine not," he returned wryly, taking out his own bread and meat and beginning to attempt to consume them. His expression twitched at the taste. "Ugh…" He chuckled again. "How old is this?"

"I don't know," I replied, "I found it in one of the cupboards."

There came a sudden rustling from a bush on the other side of the stream, and we both froze, our gazes snapping to the source of the noise. To our relief—and happiness—a small, grey rabbit hopped out from under the shrub. I moved my hand slowly to get my knife, trying not the startle the creature. When I had it in my hand, I took careful aim and threw the dagger. It hit solidly and the rabbit fell. I stood and stepped over the narrow flow of water to retrieve the body. I brought it back and reached for Jack's flint. He stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Don't you think that's a bad idea?" he asked. "Remembering what happened last time we made a fire?"

"How else are we going to cook it?" I demanded, though he had a point. I wasn't keen on seeing whatever that thing was again. The defence mechanism, as Danielle had put it. He shrugged.

"You could dry it," he suggested.

"We won't be here long enough to do that," I replied. I eyed the rabbit, hungry for real food but not hungry enough to eat it raw. Though it was probably a stupid thing to do, I decided on making a fire to cook it, dismissing last night's events as being caused by the dark and how the fire had acted like a beacon. "Let's keep going for now, and when we stop for supper, I'll cook it then. Just so long as it's not dark."

Jack looked wary of the plan, but agreed; I could see in his eyes that he was just as hungry as I was.

We stood and put the disgusting bread back into our bags. I put the rabbit on top of the other contents, and then swung the satchel up onto my back, wincing slightly at a crick in my neck.

We walked mostly in silence, with the occasional comment on a bird or plant, but for the rest of the time, our ears were kept pricked for the screeching and thudding of the monster. The hours seemed to pass surprisingly quickly as we plodded along, though my feet were beginning to ache, and I was very happy when we stopped for supper by another small (though slightly larger than the last) cave.

I made short work of building a fire, knowing I had limited time before dark fell. I skinned my rabbit and put it on a stick over the flames, keeping a watchful eye on it and turning it every so often to keep it from burning. The movement of raising my arms to adjust the stick tweaked my neck and I rubbed at it, rolling my head to one side in an effort to stretch it out. I jumped in surprise when Jack put his hands on my shoulders and twisted to look at him questioningly, but the knotted muscle stopped me.

"Sore neck?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah," I admitted, using my other arm to turn the rabbit.

Jack pushed his thumbs into my flesh and began to work out the knots in my neck, shoulders, and back. I let my head fall backwards onto his hands in pleasure, smiling involuntarily.

"Nn… thank you," I murmured, closing my eyes.

"You're welcome." I could hear the grin in his voice. He was probably laughing at my expression again, the cheeky bugger. Not that it mattered, I thought, while his hands were working such miracles. After he'd finished with my shoulders, he moved down along my back, tracing my spine and finding kinks I'd hardly been aware of myself. I nearly forgot about the rabbit, but saved it just in time from being charred.

Once he'd found every little kink and sore spot on my back and worked them out, he ran his hands lightly over my upper arms and pulled me backwards to lean against him. I complied willingly, letting my head rest on the side of his as his fingers traced lazy patterns on the exposed skin of my arms. He was warm and solid, and very comfortable. As the sky began to darken, I was sad to leave his embrace to take the rabbit off its stick and put the fire out.

I cut the animal into pieces and divided them equally between us. The meat was hot and tasted unbelievably good. We laughed and chatted about nothing in particular until we'd eaten it all and night had fallen completely. We retreated into the little cave and I lay down, glad of the fact that there was enough room to stretch out comfortably. The sky had cleared somewhat, allowing the moon to provide us with enough light to see.

I lay on my back, staring at the roof of the cave. I snuck a glance over at Jack, who'd insisted on taking the first watch. He was sitting, leaning against the wall, his eyes on the forest around us. I shifted onto my side, watching him. He was perfectly still, bathed in silver by the moonlight, the very picture of vigilant serenity. When he heard me move, he turned.

"You should sleep," he told me quietly, "I'm waking you in three hours."

I smiled slightly and nodded, closing my eyes. The colourless dark behind my eyelids reminded me of last night's monster encounter, and I could hear the screeching again, and then a thud. My eyes shot open, and the noises vanished with the darkness. I took several deep breaths to calm myself, telling min overactive imagination that it was just a memory, nothing to worry about.

I didn't want to, but I closed my eyes again. I thought of happy memories, of sitting with Danielle and laughing at simple things, of walking along the shore of the small lake near my childhood home and skipping rocks with my father, and of dancing with Jack. Slowly, as I lost myself in the past, I drifted off to sleep…

And awoke screaming.

Jack was beside me in an instant, his hands holding mine, touching my face, and wiping away the hair stuck to my forehead by the feverish sweat that had gathered there.

"Kate," he whispered into my ear, "Kate, it's okay. It's okay."

I struggled against him, still half in the dream. "No!" I shrieked, flailing about. "No! Let me go! Let me—" One of my fists caught him on the underside of the jaw and he reeled back, clutching it. The contact jolted me into full awareness and I registered what I'd done. "Oh god, Jack!" I cried, scrambling over to him, unsure what to do to make him feel better and growing hysteric. "I'm sorry! Jack, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"It's alright," he said, shifting his jaw about and then smiling. "I'm fine." He looked at my face, flushed and still covered in sweat. "Are _you_ alright?"

I nodded wordlessly, swallowing harshly on the lump in my throat. "It was just a dream," I told him, for my benefit almost as much as his. _Just a dream, _I repeated internally.

It had been a confused mix of my childhood and my life right now. Jack and I had been play-fighting in the forest, tackling each other, and he'd won, pinning me to the ground beneath him. I was laughing loudly, and so was he, tickling me just below my ribs.

Then, suddenly, we were standing, adults again, and holding hands. The screeching started, and we started running. He tripped and fell, but when I turned to pull him up, he was gone. I stood like a deer caught in the headlights, unsure of my next course of action, and then finally made up my mind and bolted in the opposite direction, running as fast as I could away from the screeching.

The thuds were all around me, in front of me and behind, to my left and to my right. I skidded to a halt and reversed direction, but was blocked by Danielle. Her skin was rotted away, her bone showing through flesh in places. She smiled at me, that kind smile, the one that had always reminded me of the sun coming out from behind a cloudbank and reached out a dead hand to touch my face. I threw myself away, falling over and scrambling backward on my hands. She regarded me sadly, as if I'd betrayed her, and then she morphed into a black cloud of smoke. It pulsed as if it had a heartbeat and floated toward me, wrapping around me like a hand and lifted me off the ground. It vanished suddenly, and I was falling, falling…

I stretched out my arms for a branch, but the tree disappeared, being replaced by the underbelly of an airplane. I fell away from it quickly, watching as it broke in half in the air and plummeted after me. Something hard, perhaps a suitcase, banged into me hard and I'd screamed and woken myself.

Jack pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I didn't resist, and instead took comfort in his presence and reassuring proximity. He stroked my hair gently, and I moved back to look up at him. My hands went to his face, running briefly over the stubble on his cheeks, and brought him closer.

I stretched up to meet his lips with mine. He didn't protest, burying his fingers that were already on my head into my hair, letting one slip down my back, and angling his mouth against mine. My hands moved up from his cheeks to slide into his dark hair, toying with the short locks.

We broke away from each other, pulling back only enough to look into each other's eyes. I smiled, running my tongue over my lips mischievously, and he laughed softly then captured my mouth again in a swift movement.

The kiss grew in intensity as we grew bolder with each other, and I had just become dimly aware of the wall of the cave pressing against my back when we heard a thud. We broke apart but stayed close, not daring to move too much. There was a series of lighter thuds, followed by a bark and a chilling howl.

"Wolves," Jack breathed, his breath tickling my cheek. I slowly and carefully reached for my knife, and saw him do the same. I detached my crossbow from my bag and loaded it, holding it up at the ready toward the mouth of the cave, prepared to shoot the moment I saw a wolf coming at us.

We stayed like that for a long time, listening to the animals moving and communicating some distance off. Finally, the sounds faded away into the distance, and we relaxed, but only momentarily as there was an awful screech, and the limp body of a wolf fell to the ground just a few feet away from us. The sound of falling trees retreated into the distance, after the other wolves, leaving the corpse discarded and forgotten in front of us.

We hardly breathed until it had been several minutes since the sounds had dissipated entirely, and then we relaxed onto each other with a sigh of relief. The poor wolf's eyes stared at us glassily, making me shudder and turn away.

Neither of us tried to go back to sleep. I leaned against Jack's shoulder, keeping watch on the jungle with him. What must have been several hours later, my body decided it couldn't function for so many days without sleep—the last time I'd truly slept had been the night before I'd been taken to Ben's fort—and my eyes fell shut and I slipped away into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_Review?_


	7. Trenton

**Seven**

Jack didn't wake me for my watch. When finally did stir, it was day, and he was still awake. I was still curled up against him, his arm draped over me, keeping me warm. I contemplated his face through slightly sleep-blurred eyes.

"Why did you come with me?" I asked. He looked down at me, as if surprised that I was awake.

"What?" he asked.

"Why did you come with me?" I repeated. "From the village. You could've stayed, passed off Ben's murder on me, kept your life. You've convicted yourself by coming with me. Why?" Perhaps I was fishing a little, wanting to hear that he wouldn't do anything to hurt me, that he wouldn't blame something on me just to save himself, that, maybe, he loved me. Even just a little. And even if it wasn't entirely true, I wanted to hear it.

He didn't disappoint me.

"I couldn't lie to them to save myself," he said, and for a moment, I thought he was going to leave it at that. Then he continued, and I felt my heart soar. "especially not if it would lower you in their opinion. I would never do anything to hurt you, Kate."

I felt myself glow, delighted in a purely feminine way that I rarely let myself feel. I snuggled my head under his, happy and flattered and certainly not ready to get up and start moving again. I'd spent enough of my life on the run already. It didn't seem fair that now, now that I was stuck however many hundred years in the past, that I should have to run again.

I looked up at him. He didn't know about my life before the time jump. Would he still feel the same way for me if he knew I'd killed people? My own father? If he knew I'd used kind, innocent people for money, almost gotten them killed, would he still care about protecting me?

I should tell him, I knew, but I think, in a way, I was afraid. I justified not telling him by saying that I was protecting him, that it was better if he didn't know; he'd be hurt by knowing. I knew I was lying to myself, but I didn't have the guts to say the words. I'd been called and had to admit to being many things in my life: bitch, whore, murderer, con artist… but never had I had to admit to being a coward, even to myself. I knew I was one, though I didn't shy from guns or knives, not even when they were pointed at me.

It kind of made me want to cry.

That day was uneventful until around noon. The sun had been in and out of the clouds all morning, and just as it began to sprinkle rain, we arrived in Trenton. It was considerably larger than our town, and we were able to purchase a night at the inn for only one coin.

The room was not pleasant. The _one_ bed was hard and probably bug-ridden, and the room's only other furnishing was a small wooden chair in the corner. Nevertheless, it was nice to have a real bed again, and I dumped by back on the floor without hesitation and flopped onto the straw-filled mattress. Jack sat down beside me.

"Are you sure we'll be okay here?" I asked.

"We don't know for sure that they're even coming after us," he told me. "And if they are, they're probably still a day behind us. We made good time yesterday and today."

I nodded, my curls squishing between my head and the mattress with the movement. "I hope they decided we weren't worth chasing," I muttered uselessly.

"Yeah," he agreed, staring off into space, "so do I."

Spontaneously, I decided that right now was a good time to tell him about my past. Or the future. Or the present. Whatever. _My_ past, whether it was in the future or not.

"Do you remember when I first arrived in your village?" I asked, and immediately felt proud of myself for being so brave to broach this subject.

"Couldn't forget," he said wryly.

"I said I'd gotten lost hunting," I said slowly, not looking at him but instead gazing down at my hands which toyed with the tie on my tunic-type shirt. Suddenly, fearful of rejection and abandonment, I raised my eyes to his. "Please promise me that no matter what I say, you won't leave."

"Of course," he said easily. "I'm not going anywhere."

I took a deep breath. _Okay, Kate. This can't possibly be worse than telling your mom you killed your father, right?_ "I didn't get lost hunting. My plane crashed, and I just appeared there."

"Your… plane?" he questioned. _Oh right. No planes in the Middle Ages._

"I'm from the future," I blurted. Jack was silent for a moment, then laughed.

"Strange joke," he chuckled. "Why say that?"

"It's the truth!" I assured him forcefully. "I'm not lying! I was on an airplane—big metal things that fly and carry people from place to place—and it crashed. I don't know what happened, but I suddenly appeared in the middle of your forest. Where I come from, it's 2007!"

He turned on the bed to look at me, who was still lying on my back and still resolutely avoiding eye contact with him. "You're not kidding, are you?"

I sat up and forced myself to look him in the eye. "No," I said. "I'm not."

He seemed to process it and accept it fairly calmly. Perhaps inside, he was screaming in fright, but on the outside, he seemed serene enough. His brows furrowed slightly. "Is your name really Kate?" he asked, looking at with that piercing stare he only gave me when I'd done something to disappoint him.

The question stung more than it should've and I wanted to turn my face away so he couldn't see the tears that gathered there. Instead, I swallowed hard and returned his gaze. "Yes," I said, my voice shaking. "My name is Kate."

I almost changed my mind on telling him about my sob-story life, but plunged onwards bravely. "I killed my father," I said, knowing tears were leaking from my eyes but not feeling them on my cheeks. "And the only man I'd ever really cared about. I'd been on the run from the police for a year before my plane crashed." There. That pretty much summed up the big bits. If there was anything he would hate me for, it would probably be those two things.

He stood, without speaking, and walked out the door. I stretched out my hand uselessly after him, choking back a sob. "Jack…" I cried. "You promised…"

There was no reply save the creaking of the door as it swung on its hinges from the force that Jack had slammed it behind him.

I lay back on the bed and covered my face with my hands, crying as quietly as I could. I twisted onto my side and curled into a ball, willing the bed to open up and swallow me, to just end it all right here, right now.

He didn't return, and almost an hour had passed before I decided to go out after him. I took both our bags with me, not wanting to invite burglary while I was out. No one seemed to think twice about me carrying a crossbow, but then I realized that I looked like a man, dressed in a loose tunic and leggings as I was. My face and arms were covered in dirt, and so was my hair, making it seem slightly shorter than usual and quite normal for a man.

I wandered the streets for quite some time without any sign of Jack. I checked inside pubs, down all the streets, and finally I took my search outside the town's limits. Trenton was situated right beside a large river, and I found myself on a long dock sticking out into the water. There was a familiar figure sitting on the end of the jetty, his feet dangling off the edge and elbows resting on his thighs. I came up beside him.

"Can I sit?" I asked, unusually politely. He gestured at the space beside him and I sat. We stayed silent for a moment while I stared down at the water in front of me and his gaze was fixed on a faraway point on the other shore. "Jack, I'm sorry," I said suddenly. He hardly moved.

"Are you?" he demanded, turning hardened chocolate eyes on me. I met those eyes with a stare of my own.

"Yeah," I said firmly.

He stayed still for a moment, eyes drilling into mine relentlessly, and then he smiled. "Then let's go get something to eat."

He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to help me up, but I only stared at him. He smiled again, and I heard him tell me wordlessly, '_It doesn't matter what you've done. What matters is who you are right now,' _and I took the proffered hand.

We walked together back into the village and headed for one of the pubs. It was crowded and dimly lit inside, and the air was thick with smoke from the torches that burned on the walls in a useless attempt to light the place. It wasn't too hard to imagine that I was back in 2007 in a dingy pub somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

We pushed our way to the bar and managed to find two neighbouring stools. The barkeeper, an older, bald man in a grimy apron that might once have been white came to stand in front of us. "Yes?" he asked, pleasantly enough. He had an odd smile and looked at me with a knowing glint in his eye that made me distinctly uncomfortable.

"You serve food here?" Jack asked, rather timidly. The bald man laughed.

"Of course!" he said, "What would you like?"

"Your cheapest," I spoke up. The barkeep turned his attention to me.

"You don't want our cheapest," he said with a grimace. "How about the second cheapest: pork and bread?"

Jack and I looked at each other. Pork and bread? We could eat that wherever we wanted, without charge, but we didn't have enough money to order anything fancy. "No thanks," Jack said and made to leave. I followed, giving the barkeep an apologetic smile.

It was a relief to be outside again, where the air was actually breathable. We laughed and headed back to the inn, disappointed to be going back to eating our regular rations, but knowing it was for the best. We would need all the money we could get.

On the walk back, we passed through a market, and we couldn't resist buying two apples. We ate them as we meandered to the inn, getting a little lost but eventually finding our way there.

I felt happier than I'd felt in a long time, with a huge weight off my shoulders. He'd accepted me for what I was, and it was relieving to know that I didn't have to hide from him anymore. There were still things he didn't know, but I supposed those would come out in time, and I hoped he would accept them as well.

I laughed wholeheartedly at anything and everything, and I saw my enthusiasm begin to wear off on him as we sat cross-legged on the bed, bickering cheerfully over who got which piece of bread. I ended up with slightly less stale slice.

When we'd finished, there was a comfortable silence while we simply sat and looked at each other for a moment. I leaned across the small gap and kissed his cheek briefly, but instead of pulling back, I kept my face by his, smiling against his skin until he took the initiative and brought my mouth to his with a hand at the base of my skull.

He chuckled into the kiss. "Anyone walking in on this would have a very strange impression," he commented. I moved away just enough to raise my eyes to his.

"Why?" I asked.

"You look like a man," he laughed again and I punched his arm playfully.

"That could be taken as a grave insult," I informed him.

"Yes," he grinned, "most women _would_ take that very badly."

"It's a good thing I'm not most women, isn't it?" I returned. He nodded, his face mocking seriousness. I locked our gazes for one more instant, and then captured his lips again.

The kiss quickly grew more persistent, and I became only vaguely aware that I was shifting to lie on my back as he took to nibbling my collarbone.

It was a miracle that I managed to hear the shouts from outside.

"Jack," I murmured, half-heartedly trying to stop him, "Jack—" his fingers slipped under my loose shirt and grazed the skin they found. "Jack, stop."

He stopped immediately, quickly pulling away. "Did I hurt you?"

"No!" I exclaimed, perhaps a little too forcefully. It didn't matter. "Listen. There are people outside."

"Kate…" he began, slightly annoyed, "it's a town. There are always people outside."

Had the situation been any less serious, I would have rolled my eyes. "I think they're from our village."

That snapped him back into reality. We clambered off the bed and hurried to the window, peeking down but being careful to keep ourselves hidden enough that they wouldn't see us. Sure enough, there was a group of armoured men standing below us, stopping people in the streets and questioning them and shouting out our names and our crimes.

"We need to get out of here," I said redundantly, grabbing my pack from the ground beside the bed and slinging it on my back. I tossed Jack his, and he dug inside it to produce two battered cloaks. He handed me one and I took my bag off to put it on, fastening it under the chin and putting the hood up. I struggled a little to get my knapsack back on over the folds of cloth, but managed, not forgetting to take the dagger from the pocket and stick it in my belt, within easy reach should I need it.

The small part of me that was still a twenty-first century girl felt silly as we hurried out of the room and down the stairs. It was all, quite literally, very cloak and dagger as we crept out the back entrance and made for the woods at a walk. It was only after we were in their shelter that we took off running. With any luck, the people chasing us would spend some time searching Trenton, enough for us to get another head start on them.

We ran until we had too little energy left to continue. We maintained a brisk walk, though we were both breathing hard and struggling to keep the pace.

"Where," I panted, "are we going to go?"

"I don't know," Jack admitted, looking at me from under the hood of his cloak. "But sooner or later, we'll come to another village. If not… well, England's an island. Eventually, you'll get to the sea, no matter which way you walk."

England is a very _large_ island, I thought pessimistically, but didn't comment.


	8. Caught

**Eight**

After we'd been on the move for what I estimated as two or three hours, I noticed my throat felt rather raw. Drinking cold water from a stream we passed helped, but only momentarily. I dismissed it as a sort of after effect of so much physical activity—too much breathing or something along those lines. Shortly after, my head began to feel strange, as though my brain had swollen and pushed against the sides of my skull. My energy was disappearing rapidly, but, not wanting to slow us down, I didn't mention it and kept going, ignoring my stumbles as my steps grew heavier and my feet lifted lower and lower from the ground.

Finally, my foot caught on a rock and I fell. Jack stopped and waited for me to get up, probably slightly impatient. With disproportionate effort, I pushed myself to my knees, and from there, the rest of the way up.

Immediately, I was dizzy. The edges of my vision darkened and I had to struggle to stay conscious. I lost my balance when I lifted a leg to put my foot forward, ending up grabbing hold of a tree to steady myself. I put a hand to my forehead, finding it warmer than normal.

"You okay?" Jack asked concernedly, feeling my forehead for himself. "You're overheating," he said, easing me down to the ground gently. "Let's rest for a while."

I went gladly, without any resistance other than a pathetically mumbled, "We need to keep going…"

"Not until you rest for at least half an hour," he said firmly, using several drops from his water-skin to dampen a rag, which he pressed to my face, wiping away the sweat that was quickly gathering there. "Any symptoms other than dizziness?" he asked.

"I'm tired," I admitted hoarsely, "and my throat hurts."

He frowned and I could see in his face that he was trying to place my ailments with a sickness. "You may just be coming down with the ague," he announced finally. "It's not serious, but you know as well as I do that you will need to take it easy."

"Jack—" I began to protest, despite the pain in my throat that begged me not to speak.

"I know," he cut me off. "we _do_ have to keep going. But we can go slowly; they'll still be checking out Trenton for us for some time more. We have a big enough head start…"

"That's what we thought last time," I breathed, raising an eyebrow to try to counterbalance the weakness of my voice and restore my usual pep to the words. I had a feeling that it didn't work.

His mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile. "Hopefully we're right this time."

He settled against the tree trunk beside me and I leaned my head on his shoulder, grateful for the support. I felt awful. As someone who was rarely sick, I supposed I must have been taking this worse than most people would. With a sigh, I told myself to suck it up and get on with other more important things. Like running for our lives.

I tried to stand, but Jack caught my arm and pulled me back down. "No," he said firmly, "You need to rest."

"Jack, we need to get going more than I need to sit around here for half an hour," I told him realistically, trying to sound as forceful as possible though my voice was rough and quiet and my throat stung terribly with the effort. "If I do have the ague, resting for only half an hour won't help anyway."

He looked at me, seeing the determination in my eyes, and echoed my sigh of several moments ago resignedly. "If you say so," he agreed reluctantly and stood, reaching down to help me up.

The sudden, albeit slight, difference in the blood flow to my brain almost made me black out again. Jack held me steady with a kind arm about my waist and another around my shoulders until the sensation passed, and then, slowly, we continued on our walk, staying close enough to each other that he could catch me should I fall, yet not quite touching.

I was still so, _so _tired, but I didn't want to say anything. No, that was not true. I wanted desperately to say something, to make us stop for a while and just _sleep_, but I didn't. I knew I couldn't; we had to keep going, we couldn't afford to slow down, even just a little. We had to get as much distance between the people from our village and us as possible.

Luckily, it was growing late in the afternoon. Soon, the sky began to darken and then finally, night fell and we were forced to find a place to spend the night. I practically collapsed onto the ground when we decided that this place, a small clearing surrounded by tall pine trees, was were we'd sleep. It was such a welcome relief to not have to stand, to not have to strain my legs to keep me up, that I was asleep almost instantly.

I hardly stirred when Jack lifted me to put something soft underneath me that felt like a blanket, or when he arranged us with my head and torso on his lap so that I might be more comfortable. It occurred to me dimly that he hadn't slept in days, probably longer than I had. I wondered very briefly how he was managing to hold up, but the thoughts fled quickly as I slipped away into pleasing unconsciousness.

I did not sleep through the night. Jack shifting beneath me awoke me, and I was alert immediately. My head felt much clearer, and my throat hardly hurt anymore. Whether or not this reprieve would last, I didn't know, but for the time being, I was determined to let Jack get some sleep.

I sat up and tucked stray strands of hair behind my ears. "I'll take the watch for the rest of the night," I said, "You sleep."

He barely protested. There was something that sounded like 'are you sure you're up to it?' and then he was lying down, his head on my lap now, eyes closed and breathing steady. I smiled faintly, watching his calm face, and ran a finger lightly over the careworn features.

There were lines on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes, too deep for a person as young as him, although in sleep they almost seemed more shallow than while he was awake. His mouth was open slightly, and he mumbled something as if responding to my touch. I smiled again and took my finger away, instead letting my head sit on the crown of his head, fingertips toying with his short hair.

The night was quiet and still, with a large moon giving me plenty of light to see by. Somewhere in the distance, an howl hooted and some small critter scuttled in the bushes nearby. I kept my knife handy, just in case.

Suddenly, another sound joined the others. I placed it immediately: the helicopter sound the defence mechanism made. It was behind me, pulsing eerily. I held still; it hadn't attacked. Maybe it didn't see me, perhaps if I didn't move it would just go away…

It came around to float in front of me, a small cloud of smoke blacker than the night, and I stared at it, too terrified to move. It was exactly as I'd pictured it in my dream. It seemed to reverberate before me, its shape changing and morphing, and there almost seemed to be lights flashing within it.

I wished Jack was awake, but didn't dare to wake him. I stared at it wide-eyed, not moving, not breathing, and it stared back. Strangely, a quote I'd heard long ago passed through my mind: "When you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."

I wondered if things would play out as they had in my nightmare now. Would it suddenly grab me and fling me about as if I were no more than a rag doll? I waited, not wanting to die but at the same time prepared for it. Finally, it pulled away, folding in on itself and withdrawing from me. It slipped away into the woods quietly, threading its way like a snake.

I prodded Jack awake. "Jack," I whispered, "Jack, wake up." I wasn't sure what I wanted him to do, but I did know that I certainly did not want to be alone in the night after that. He stirred gradually and eventually opened his eyes. He pushed himself up off my lap.

"What is it?" he asked blearily.

"The—" I changed my mind at the last moment and then lied, "Nothing. I was just shifting. Sorry to wake you."

He shrugged. "It's okay." He didn't lie down again, but instead put himself in a more comfortable sitting position and leaned against the tree trunk, sharing it with me, his shoulder touching mine. "Good night," he murmured.

"Sorry to wake you," I apologized again. He didn't respond, and I heard and felt his breathing even out as he fell back to sleep.

I questioned myself about why I hadn't told him that the thing had come, but decided it was because I knew he needed to sleep. If I'd told him about it, he would've stayed awake with me. I stared out at the forest, still afraid, and sought his hand. I held it tightly and let my head lean over and rest on his shoulder.

The night passed slowly. I sat there, lonely and scared among my thoughts, until I saw lights in the distance. I squinted to see better—was I dreaming? Was I so tired I was becoming delirious? Or were they actually there? Maybe this whole night had been one big dream; it certainly seemed like it could be. Then I heard shouting, voices and the barking of dogs, and I knew I was not asleep.

"Jack!" I hissed, shaking him, "Jack, we need to go now!"

He was awake quickly. "What's going on?"

"They caught up to us!" I informed him hurriedly, "We have to run!"

His eyes widened as he caught sight of the torches burning in the near background. We scrambled to our feet and slung our bags onto our backs and were off, feet slapping the ground in rhythm with the blood pounding in our ears. We were being followed, we could hear them behind us, and then an arrow whizzed past me. I jumped in surprise but kept running, knowing what would happen if we were caught.

Suddenly, Jack wasn't beside me anymore. I twisted around to see where he was and saw him lying face-down on the ground, the brilliant white of an arrow's fletching visible protruding from his shoulder.

"Jack!" I screamed, skidding to a stop and hysterically debating whether or not to go get him. The others were closing in, I had to do something. Finally, I made up my mind and took off running again, trying not to cry as it would hinder my breathing. _I'll come back for you,_ I promised, _Don't worry, Jack. I'll come back._

In the end, whichever decision I'd made didn't matter. Another arrow pierced my leg and I fell, pitching forward and hitting my head hard on the ground. Lights danced in front of me, but whether they were torches or hallucinations I didn't know, and then everything faded into absolute black.


	9. Infection

**Nine**

I woke up conscious only of a terrible pain in my calf and head. My wrists, as well, were uncomfortable. I opened my eyes slowly and found I was still in the forest, sitting up against a tree, my hands bound behind my back. Jack was nearby, his eyes closed and leaning on his own tree in a similar position to mine. Our captors had made a fire and were cooking something. The scent of it wafted over to me and I became painfully aware of how hungry I was.

One of them, a burly man, came over to me when he saw I was awake. He grabbed my chin roughly and spat on my cheek, then held out a piece of just-cooked meat.

"Hungry?" he sneered. I regarded him through half-squinted eyes, in pain from so many places. _Yes. I'm very hungry. Give me that. Please._ I wanted to ask for it, or even just to speak, but his fingers on my jaw were too tight. "No? Alright." He released me just as roughly as he'd taken hold of me, stood, and walked away, putting the meat into his own mouth as we went.

I glared after him, hating him for his smug coarseness, but then my gaze fell on Jack, who was waking up.

"Jack," I said. He opened his eyes and they found me. I smiled. "Hey."

"Hey," he returned. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Are you?"

He nodded, but he was just as dishonest as I was. His shoulder was sloppily bandaged and I could see a large red stain on the cloth, and there was a bloody bruise on his cheekbone. "That bruise looks pretty bad," he commented, surprising me. "On your forehead," he elaborated at my puzzled look. "You haven't noticed?" So that was where my headache was coming from…

"Time to go," said a voice. I looked up to see a familiar woman standing over me, her fair hair partially tied back while the rest tumbled over her shoulders in gentle waves.

"Juliet?" I asked, placing her as Ben's maid.

"Kate?" she mimicked and hauled me roughly to my feet by my elbow. She put the rest of some bit of food into her mouth with her other hand, not obviously rubbing it in that she could eat while I starved, but I noticed the small smirk she wore as she turned away to get Jack up. He jerked away from her grasp and pushed himself into a standing position, and I saw the wince of pain flash across his face with the movement.

"Careful," Juliet warned, though her tone was anything but concerned, "You'll open your shoulder again."

I took a step forward and my right leg collapsed under me, making me brutally aware of the arrow wound in my calf again. No body caught me and my face became thoroughly acquainted with the cold, damp soil. I struggled to get back up—having my hands behind my back wasn't making anything any easier.

A hard boot slammed into my ribs and my breath left me in a grunted gasp that was almost a scream. I heard Jack yell something at whoever had struck me, and then a cruel laugh. Another foot ground itself into my leg, pressing down on the injury already there. I cried out and tried to squirm away, rolling onto my side and curling up.

"Stop it!" Juliet barked. "She has to be able to walk, idiot!"

A hand wrapped about my upper arm and lifted me back onto my feet. I stayed doubled-over, my rib throbbing horridly and my leg refusing to take my weight.

"Kate," Jack said, beside me. I lifted my head to see him. He looked as though he wanted to hug me, or at least check me for serious injuries, struggling against his bindings. "You okay?"

What a useless question. No, of course I was not okay! "Y—" When I tried to lie, the movement compressed my rib cage. Pain jolted through me again and I gritted my teeth. Oh god. Please don't let my rib be broken. I nodded instead of speaking and wondered how on earth Jack was going to believe me.

The thought was dismissed from my mind as I was nudged from behind and the order came to 'get going'. I stepped carefully, feeling my muscles give out each time I put my right leg down. No one seemed inclined to help me, but after I fell again, hitting the dirt with a cry of agony, they must have decided that I was too slow, because an arm slipped itself through mine and I looked up to see a middle-aged man holding onto me. He didn't look at me, and I returned my gaze to the ground before me.

Time dragged on. I found myself dreading each step for the pain it would bring, and as I grew tired, my respiration quickened, stretching and bending my injured ribs. My breath became shallow and ragged, slight gasps every other second.

At long last, the day decided it had tortured me enough and dusk fell. We stopped to make camp and Jack and I were allowed to sit down, our hands untied so we could eat the scraps of food they tossed us. While they set up their tents, he crawled over to me.

"How are you doing?" he asked. I was lying on my back, staring up at the pale sky above the treetops and trying not to move. I didn't answer. "Kate?" His fingers brushed over my forehead and I winced. "That bruise is not good. How's the rib?"

"Fine," I muttered. My throat was beginning to hurt again and I wished for a drink. I felt him lift my shirt just enough to see the injury and I lifted my head to look too. There was a large purplish-black weal there, along with a small laceration surrounded by dried blood. He probed it gently, barely touching it, but it stung viciously.

"I don't think it's broken," he announced. Oh, good. "but I'll still bind it, just in case. It may just be a small fracture." He called for the others and Juliet made her way over. "Do you have any more bandages?"

"Why?" she asked.

"Her rib might be broken," Jack told her. "I need something to bind it with."

She gazed down at my side. "Why would you bind it?" she scoffed, "In a few days, we'll be back home. You do know that you're to be burned, don't you? An injured rib doesn't make a difference."

Burned? I felt strangely calm about it. It was still a few days away; we could escape before then.

Jack and Juliet were still speaking, but I was no longer listening. My mind was shutting down, demanding sleep, and I let it take me away from the world.

The following day went just as that past one had gone. I struggled to walk and found that the ague-like symptoms I'd had however many days ago—it felt like years—were returning. At the end of the second day of marching, I was so tired that I hit the ground and was out like a light without eating supper.

* * *

I woke up feeling strange. I was hot and cold at the same time, and I couldn't move for lack of energy. I opened my eyes and found it already bright daylight. Jack was sitting up nearby, unbound and leaning against a tree. He saw me waken and made his way over.

When I opened my mouth to say good morning, my parched lips split and I tasted blood. "'Morning," I managed, and coughed feebly.

"Here," he handed me a water skin and aided me into a semi-upright position. I took it gratefully and gulped some down, relieved as it eased the ache in the back of my throat somewhat. I ran my tongue over my lips to moisten them. "We're heading out again soon," he told me. "How are you?"

"Okay," I said, and then admitted, "I feel kind of… weird."

"How so?" he asked.

"Never mind," I said, shaking my head and then wishing I hadn't as my brain rattled around inside it, as I realized he hadn't complained once about his shoulder. "What about you?"

His fingers went to the bloody bandages wrapping around him from his upper arm to the side of his chest. "Fine. It's not infected, and as long as I don't move my arm it doesn't hurt." He cast his gaze down. "They shot you, too, didn't they?"

"Yeah," I said. "The back of my shin."

He shifted to get a better look at the strips of cloth around my calf. The actual puncture was on the side, I think, but the pain from it was everywhere. He examined it for longer than I was comfortable with and I struggled to lift my head to look down. To my horror, the deep red stain was also partially yellow-brown. Jack's brow was furrowed, and he set about carefully unwrapping the bandages.

When they were off, I stared in disgust. The place where the arrow had struck me was blackish, the area around it a disturbing grey-blue. Yellow fluid oozed slowly from the hole, and a sickening smell invaded my nostrils.

He snapped into action, ripping off a piece of his shirt and wetting it, and then dabbing at the wound. I stiffened and gasped in pain, letting my head fall back onto the ground. "Jack—" I tried to stop him, jerking my leg and arching my back instinctively to get away and regretting the actions immediately. "No—ah!—please—"

He didn't stop, working relentlessly to clean the infection out of me. I felt myself sobbing without tears, pressing my skull into the ground as hard as I could to distract myself and gripping soil within my fists.

I hardly noticed Juliet and several others standing over us. Jack spoke to her distractedly, demanding more water and another cloth. No one moved.

"Now!" he shouted, "Your arrow pieced the bone and infected the marrow! If I can't clean this out—" he cut himself off, probably for my benefit, and stood. I breathed heavily in relief, barely aware of the agony that each intake caused my ribs after the torture I'd just been put through.

Jack grabbed Juliet by the collar. She stared at him, unfazed. "She'll die," he said, his voice deadly low and probably not meant for me to hear. "If I can't get the infection out, she's not going to live long enough for you to burn!"

Another man took hold of him and jerked him away from the blond.

"She is in God's hands," said Juliet calmly. "He will decide her fate, and judge her as the damned witch she is."

I choked on my breath, coming out a weak sob. I didn't want to die. I'd accepted the upcoming burning well enough because I knew I could escape that if I tried. But this… I couldn't get away from it.

"Let's go," she said.

Jack knelt beside me and re-bandaged my leg with a piece of the bottom of my over-large shirt. "Hope you don't mind," he said with false cheeriness. I humoured him and smiled.

"Go ahead," I said softly, returning his lightness with my own. "You'd better not be expecting me to walk."

"No," he said. "Don't worry." He took another piece of my tunic and wrapped it around my injured rib.

"Keep—" my quip was interrupted by a gasp as he tied the cloth tight, "Keep it up, and I won't have any shirt left."

He chuckled and gingerly slid his arms under me, lifting as gently as possible. I saw the pain on his face as he required his injured arm to move, but I didn't have the strength or the ability to protest against his carrying me other than, "You'll hurt yourself…"

"Nah," he said, raising his chin and smiling, though I didn't fail to notice the muscles in his jaw clenching, "I'm fine."

The others didn't protest when they saw us, and, though I felt rather bad about causing him pain, thankfully didn't insist that he put me down and bind our hands. After all, they had the weapons, and I couldn't walk. Where were we going to go?

I held onto Jack, one arm around his neck and the other behind him, to help him with bearing my weight. As we walked, I was at first uncomfortable, with my bruised rib pressing against him and my leg swinging with the motion, but I got used to it after a short while and found myself falling asleep. I let it happen, glad to get away from my sore throat and aching head.

For the rest of the day, I drifted in and out of wakefulness. I had the feeling that we didn't cover much ground when we made camp that evening. Jack set me down and sat next to me, letting me lean against him. He slipped his good arm about me and held me snugly but carefully, as though I was made of glass.

"Have we passed Trenton yet?" I asked.

"No," he said, his eyes half-closed. "We're not even halfway there. We haven't been moving too fast."

I smiled and wrapped my own arm around him, hooking it behind his neck. "Good." The movement took far too much energy. My muscles trembled to keep the appendage up, and finally I let it drop, putting it around his waist instead.

We were given our dinner: bread and dried meat of some kind. We looked at each other and shared a laugh, and then ate the food. The bread was stale, which made us chuckle again, and I mimed using my back teeth to gnaw on it. Afterwards, Juliet and her group—I say her group because she seemed to be in charge—retreated into their tents, except for three who stayed awake, standing on guard in a circle around the camp. They didn't bother to tie our hands.

* * *

I did not sleep well. I woke often and each time struggled to get back to sleep. My leg throbbed dully, and every time I opened my eyes it seemed to worsen. Finally, the eighth time I awoke, I couldn't stand it anymore. I groaned softly as I leaned down to touch it, to wrap my hands around it in an instinctual attempt to ease the pain. It didn't do anything but make it hurt more, and I leaned back against the tree, tilting my head back and crying without tears.

"Jack…" I murmured, not wanting to wake him but foolishly half-expecting him to give me some kind of painkiller. "Jack…"

He stirred and opened his eyes, then looked over at me. "You okay?" he asked sleepily, taking in my squinted features.

"My leg…" I said quietly, ashamed like a child who has called their mother in to banish the shadows in the closet in the middle of the night.

His eyebrows drew together; there was nothing he could do for me. "Come." He held his arm out for me and I pushed myself toward him with a barely audible grunt of pain. I settled down next to him, not quite touching him but very close, and looked up at his face. He watched me just as closely, reaching out to push my shorter pieces of hair away from my eyes. It was all the invitation I needed to shift myself onto the side of my hip and place my hands on either side of his face and close the distance between us with my lips. I'd been looking for something to take my mind of the pain and this was certainly working.

A cool rain began to fall, but I hardly noticed. Jack's fingers had managed to find their way into the tangled mess of my hair, holding me close. His other hand slid down my back, finding the tattered end of my shirt and planting itself on my bare skin, making my breath quicken. I opened my mouth to him, allowing him all the access he could want, and angling it against his to take advantage of the access it gave _me._

"Hey!" a shout broke us apart. One of the guards had seen us. "Hands off. Get some sleep."

I grinned somewhat sheepishly at Jack and gave him another brief kiss, then pulled away and settled on his shoulder. I was wet from the rain and rather cold, but my leg, I thought with a smile, felt much better.


	10. Alcatraz

**Ten**

When I next woke, it was dark. Confused, at first I thought that I hadn't slept through the remainder of the night, but then I noticed that I wasn't leaning up against Jack and the trees around us were different. I struggled to sit up.

"Hello?" I called weakly. "Jack?"

He jogged over to me, a cloth in his hand. He quickly knelt beside me and pushed me back onto the ground.

"W—where—?" I choked. My voice was hoarse and my throat stung as though I hadn't had anything to drink for far too long.

"We passed Trenton three days ago," he told me, mopping my forehead with his cloth.

"We—we did?" my vocal chords were still refusing to cooperate. He helped me sit up and put a water skin to my lips. I drank gratefully, grasping it with violently shaking hands. "How long have I been out?" I asked, wiping off my mouth.

"Six days," he said. "You woke up several times, but you were… near delusional. We got some food and water into you, but you—well, you were in no state to speak intelligibly, let alone walk or take care of yourself." He smiled at me and passed the cloth over my forehead again. "Your fever broke just a few hours ago."

Six days… I let my breath out in a long whoosh and realized that I could breathe without pain. I touched my rib and found it still tender, but not nearly as much. I lifted my shirt to look and found that there was just a large darker spot there, the remnants of a bruise.

I bent over to examine my leg and found it already unwrapped. It was still an obvious wound, but the disturbing blue/grey tendrils that had branched out from it were gone. The actual hole was dark reddish-black, a large scab.

"I was going to clean it," Jack said, catching my hand when I reached down to touch it. "Be careful. I don't want it to get infected again."

Gently, he brushed the wet cloth over it. It stung and I winced automatically, but it was nowhere near as bad as that first time. He wiped off the area around it as well, and instructed me not to move for a while so the bandage he'd just washed could dry before he put it back on. I grinned.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said lightly, "I _can't_ go anywhere."

He chuckled and reached behind him, returning with a piece of stale-looking (was there any other kind?) bread. "Can I tempt you?"

"Not with that," I said, and belatedly realized the slight double-entendre my words had had and ducked my head to hide my flush. My hand shot out and took the bread from him, chewing quickly and resolutely not looking at him in hope that I could cancel out what I'd said. He just laughed again and settled down cross-legged beside me. "How's your shoulder?" I asked a moment later.

"Pretty good," he replied. "The arrow didn't do much muscle damage and it didn't puncture the bone. I got lucky."

I slid the pads of my fingers over the bands of cloth gently and looked up at his face, giving him an uncertain smile. Surely this must hurt, and yet he'd carried my dead weight for so long.

"Thank you," I whispered. He looked down at me.

"For what?"

I didn't reply, already beginning to feel sleepy again. I lay back on the ground, my eyes closing. "For carrying me," I said. "Wouldn't be here without you."

"No," he chuckled, "You certainly wouldn't be. You're welcome. Now, go to sleep." I nodded, and felt him take my hand. Softly, so softly I knew I wasn't supposed to hear it, he added, "Just make sure you wake up."

I wanted to open my eyes again and sit up to hug him, tell him that I would be fine, that I was already feeling better, to not worry about me. I tried, and my eyelids fluttered, but that was all. They stayed glued shut as though they had lead weights attached to them, and then all was lost as my brain shut itself down again and I was returned to the realm of the unconscious.

* * *

Silver morning sunlight filtered down through the tree canopy and into my slowly opening eyes the next morning. I felt refreshed and surprisingly happy, and pushed myself halfway into a sitting position. Jack was fast asleep, sprawled out on the ground and leaning against a tree. The tents of the rest of our troupe were scattered around nearby, and three guards patrolled the perimeter of the camp.

"Good morning, Katherine."

Juliet's voice from behind me made me jump and I twisted around to get her in my frame of view. "Nice to see you awake again—we were beginning to think you would never come about." My eyes narrowed in distrust as she crouched down in front of me. "How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea?"

I stared at her. Was she a doctor, too? "I'm fine."

"Really?" her blue eyes bored into mine unrelentingly. "No sore throat? Not even… from six days ago?"

"What?" I jerked backwards as she stretched out her hand to feel my forehead. "Don't touch me."

"Fine," she said easily and stood. Her face neutral, she walked away, leaving me to wonder what the hell had just happened.

Not a long time later, a large, middle-aged man, the one who'd held my arm the first day of our walk, stood over me. "Time to go," he said and offered me a hand to pull me up. I ignored it and pushed myself to my feet with difficulty, holding onto a tree trunk for support. My leg shot jolts of pain up to my knee with the movement, but it remained at least a little stable and I remained standing.

The man left me and nudged Jack with his foot to wake him. His eyes shot open and he was alert instantly. I saw his mouth move, probably asking what the man wanted, but I was out of earshot. He stood and the older man returned to me.

"Can you walk?" he asked. I tried hesitantly, slowly shifting my weight onto my injured leg. It complained vehemently but held. I nodded. "Good. Follow me."

He led me over to Jack and picked up a small coil of rope from where it lay on the ground. He tied one end in an elaborate pattern, folding it and then wrapping it around and around… horrible dread struck through me like lightning as I recognized a hangman's knot. I began to back away, but another man caught me by the shoulders and held me in position as the loop was slipped over my head, struggling and squeezing my eyes shut. It was not tightened, and I slowly opened my eyes, afraid that I would see the first man tying the other end of the rope to a branch above my head. Instead, I saw the other end being tied in another knot just like the one around my neck. It was pulled over Jack's head, binding us to each other with only a foot or two of extra cord between us. I stared at the faces gathered around us in horror, my hands instinctively going to the rope.

"Thank you, Thomas," Juliet said to the man who'd tied us up. She turned her attention to me. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you, Kate." _Kate? Not Katherine? What is with these people and their names? Is it some sort of secret code? Kate is 'I'm amused by your patheticness but at the moment I actually have a mind of my own' and Katherine is 'I'm still Ben's faithful whore'? _I wanted to say it out loud but didn't get the chance because she continued. "We need you to stay with us. Jack is the only one of you able to run, and we think he wouldn't leave without you, but the ropes are our insurance on that. If you remove them, we will cut your fingers off. All of them." She smiled. "You won't need them anyway." My eyes narrowed to slits but my hands dropped from my neck. "Good girl."

"Fuck you," I spat. She ignored me and picked up a small backpack. The others followed her example, though theirs were much larger, probably containing the tents and food while she carried the tent pegs and other light items. Thomas grabbed my arms and forced them through the straps of a bag, and then tossed one to Jack. I lost my balance, the suddenly added weight pulling me backwards. I took a step back to steady myself but my leg folded under me and I fell with a strangled cry of pain as the noose tightened on my windpipe. Jack came down beside me, gasping for air and pulling at the cord around his neck. I tried hooking my fingers under mine, but all I did was scratch my own skin. My actions grew more frantic as my vision darkened, and finally Jack managed to get his loosened and got my hands away from my neck, pulling on the rope himself until the loop grew and I sucked in a grateful breath.

"Thanks," I said.

He summoned a weak grin. "No problem. You okay?" He put his hands gently on either side of my neck, his thumbs probing my windpipe for damage.

"Yeah," I said with a short, involuntary cough as his fingers passed over a particularly sensitive spot.

"Sorry," he apologized, finished my check-up and feeling his own throat.

"It's okay," I said.

"Get up," barked a man standing nearby. I looked at Jack and together we stood cautiously. Jack slipped his arm around me for support and also so that, should either of us fall again, we wouldn't be choked by our ropes. We walked forward slowly, me hardly using my right leg and relying on Jack to keep my upright. It was sluggish, painful progress, but we made it to our town before sundown. We were untied and tossed into a cell, probably the same one I'd been in when Ben had forced me to the fort however many weeks ago. It had the same pitch blackness and damp floor, but other than that, there was no way to tell. I managed to find Jack's hand and held it tightly, my anchor in the sea of darkness.

"It'll be okay," he told me and I could easily hear the false optimism in his voice. "We'll get out."

"Somehow," I agreed. I didn't want to think about what would happen if we didn't.

_Big thank you to SassyLostie who wrote me an adorable Jate oneshot called The Perfect End to a Long Day. Go read it! You'll love it, I promise!_


	11. The Prestige

**Eleven**

Time passed slowly in that little room, or at least, I think it did; I had no method of keeping tabs on it. I fiddled with the hem of my dress and waited for something to happen. Finally, when the silence pressing on my ears grew unbearable, "Jack—" I began, but didn't finish. What was there to say? There was no reply where I'd been expecting one. "Jack?" Still nothing. I leaned forward, feeling around for him. "Jack?" my voice rose. Had I fallen asleep? Had they taken him while I was sleeping? "Jack!" At last, my fingers happened upon something that was not ground. I heard a yawn and the thing I'd touched moved.

"Kate?" Jack questioned. I resisted the urge to throw my arms around his neck, mainly because I was afraid of accidentally poking him in the eye, and sighed in relief.

"I thought they'd taken you," I told him shakily.

"Sorry," he apologized sleepily, "I must've drifted off."

"It's okay," I smiled faintly. He moved, presumably to crawl to the wall to lean against it, but his hand landed high on my thigh. He didn't seem to realize just what he was touching, and I was glad of the concealing darkness that hid my flush from him. "Um," I said awkwardly, "Jack…"

"What?" he asked, still completely unaware. He moved again, though, and his hand left my thigh.

"How are you doing?" I asked pathetically. _Brilliant, Kate,_ I told myself sarcastically, _he'll never guess that you're covering something up._

"Fine," he replied, and I blinked in surprise. He'd fallen for it? No way. "You?"

"Good," I lied. I was anything but good—I was scared, so scared that I felt sick. I leaned back against the wall and clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. "What's going to happen to us?" It was a stupid question I couldn't stop myself from asking. I knew just as well as he did what was to come.

He took a moment before replying with such forced optimism there was an audible strain in his voice, "Nothing. We'll get out, don't worry." I was silent, waiting for him to tell me the truth. Finally, he spoke quietly and with a voice that was as unsteady as mine, though he tried to hide it, "They're going to burn us."

Someone once told me not to ask questions I didn't want to know the answer to. I should've listened.

As the knot of fear tightened my stomach into a hard ball of nausea, I shifted sideways and leaned against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He let out his breath in a pained hiss. "Kate—" I drew away, realizing I'd been putting pressure on his injured shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he pushed himself into a more comfortable position. "Come over here." Carefully, I crawled around to his other side and leaned against him from there. He put one arm around me and I held onto the coarse fabric of his shirt. I wanted him to tell me again that it would all be okay, that he knew how we could get out and live happily ever after, that we weren't going to die in the most painful way I could think of.

"Oh god," I whispered, panic setting in. "Oh god." My breathing accelerated with my heart rate. I didn't want to die. I'd always gone about my life thinking that I wasn't afraid of death, that I deserved it anyways, but now that I was faced with it— _Oh please, god, I don't want to die!_ "We need to get out of here. We have to go!"

"Kate," he said, trying to calm me, "Kate, listen to me."

"We can't die here!" I was hysterical. I knew it, but I couldn't stop. "I don't want to die!"

"Listen to me," he was still speaking, his voice low and almost completely buried under mine. He had his hands on my shoulders, attempting to still me and slow my breathing. "We're still okay. We're still here. They may not even kill us—something could happen. It won't be for a few more days."

"Why are you so calm?" I demanded, "They're going to _burn_ us! Aren't you scared?" Why did I want to know that? It would only frighten me more once he admitted to being afraid, and so I was very glad when he didn't answer, and vowed once again to obey whoever it was that had told me not to ask questions I didn't want to know the answers to.

Jack pulled me back to him, sensing that my near violent hysteria was coming to a close, and gently held my head against his chest with a hand in my tangled hair. Being so close to him, I could hear his heart beating quickly and I could feel the almost non-existent tremors goings through his arms. Maybe those were just the echo of my very noticeable shaking, or maybe he really was trembling. I tightened my grip on him, whispering, "I don't want to die."

"No," he agreed, "neither do I."

I stayed up against him, listening to his breathing, for a time I couldn't measure. I became gradually aware of a pain in my stomach and identified it as hunger. When had the last real meal I'd had been?

"When we get out of here," I said suddenly, "I'm going to eat a really big plate of pasta. With parmesan cheese and butter."

"I would kill for a steak," he added softly, "With salad and pasta."

"Mmm," I liked my lips unconsciously, "And some of that nice French bread Danielle used to bake. What was it called?"

"Baguette," he told me. "Baguette with basil and tomatoes…" he trailed off, bother of us lost in dreams of delicacies we'd rarely had.

"Pizza," I said, recalling the almost-alien food that I hadn't had since months before the plane crash, "And entire one, large size, with Italian sausage and pineapple." He didn't question this new food, despite that he'd probably never even heard of pizza, let alone pineapple. I wondered if he'd even been listening, or if his mind was completely elsewhere, out of this awful cell and back in our little house on the fringes of town, with Danielle and me, healing people like he had all his life.

Had it been all his life? He must've had parents; surely he'd mentioned them before? I thought back, but could come up with nothing. It made me realize how little I knew about him. I whispered his name to ask him about himself, but he didn't stir and I knew he was hiding himself in dreams of happier times.

We were startled out of our separate reveries by the cell door banging open. I scrambled backwards instinctively and felt Jack tense up as heavy footsteps loomed toward up. A large hand grabbed me by the arm and hauled me to my feet. I struggled as much as I could, twisting and jerking, flailing at and trying to bite whatever got within my reach.

"Jack!" I screamed. He was scrambling to his feet and soon he was fighting against my captor as well. The man who held me managed to get a hand all the way around my throat, squeezing until I sobbed for air. Jack, unaware, continued to fight, and I became aware that there were two men in there with us.

"Stop!" ordered the man choking me, "Or she dies right here." The scuffling noises stopped, and then there was a loud thud and a grunt of pain that sounded like Jack. The grip on my neck loosened and I sucked in welcome breaths.

We were forced out of the cell and into a room so bright it stung our eyes, even after we'd squeezed them closed. We were shoved down into stone chairs and a man with a knife approached me. I shrank away but another man held my shoulders, keeping me in place. Hanks of my hair were grabbed and sliced off until it was as short—though more uneven—as Jack's. A glance across the room told me the same thing was happening to him. The knife returned to my hair, now scraping along my scalp unrelentingly. Tears mingled with rivulets of blood as they trickled down my face. The knife bit into my head again and again, often removing more skin than hair. I cried out.

Finally, the ordeal was over. When I opened my eyes, blood fell into them, stinging and making me close them again. I was pulled up out of my chair and I let the guard lead me blindly, my will to fight broken. We stopped and my clothes were ripped off me. I wrapped my arms around myself and waited for the guard's body to descend on mine. It didn't. Instead, a piece of cloth was thrown at me. I wiped my eyes of my blood and squinted them open to find a dirty white shift lying crumpled at my feet. The guard tossed another to Jack, and though I noticed that he was naked, it didn't even occur to me to take the chance and check him out.

I picked the shift up and pulled it carefully on, wincing as it dragged across the cuts on my head. Despite my efforts to keep it from touching me, it was stained blotchily red when I managed to get it all the way on.

The guard brought us back to our cell, slamming the door behind us and locking it without a word, returning us to darkness. I collapsed against Jack almost immediately. We stood together for a moment, neither of us moving, until he put his arms about me.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

_No._ "Yeah," I replied. "I think so. What about you?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice slightly unsteady.

"Is that… standard practice?" I asked quietly.

He hesitated before answering, "It's been a long time since anyone was convicted of witchcraft."

"Danielle—" I began.

"Danielle was _accused_ of witchcraft," he interrupted, "Her execution was her trial. They probably tried us while we were gone and decided we were guilty. That's why we're not getting our 'fair' trial."

I was silent, frightened that I was feeling almost envious of Danielle. I wanted to drown, not be burned. _No. _I didn't _want_ to drown. If I could choose between the two, I would pick drowning. I shook my head to clear it of such morbid thoughts and winced as the cuts on my scalp scratched against Jack's shirt.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," I said. He didn't need to hear about my traumatized mind's strange musings.

I pulled away and sat down on the ground, gingerly running my hand over my head. The skin felt foreign, and not just because of the lumpy cuts that were already beginning to scab. I'd had short hair as a child, maybe when I was eight or nine, but that was a long time ago and though it had been a buzz cut, I was not bald. I felt self-conscious, even though it was too dark to see, and I supposed that was what Juliet had been aiming for.

Jack went to join me on the floor, but ended up sitting on my foot. I let out a little cry of pain as the pressure twisted my injured leg and he quickly moved.

He apologized profusely. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, "It's just my leg." With short laugh, I added, "Again."

"How's it doing?" he asked, all serious.

"It's fine," I said, and when he was silent, obviously knowing I was putting up false bravado, and I amended, "It hurts."

"Can I see it?"

"Good luck," I chuckled.

"I mean—" I could hear the smile in his voice and the movement as he shook his head. "I meant, can I check it out, feel it for any swelling."

"Sure," I agreed. "Where are you?"

"Here," he said. I stretched my arm out to feel around for him and made contact with his hand that he'd raised to find me. I swung myself around and led his hand to my leg, where he trailed it down along it to find my calf. I shivered, his touch not meant to be sensual but being it all the same. The shift didn't cover much, so he'd made a line all the way from well up on my thigh to my ankle.

He managed to find the puncture wound. His fingers probed about gently, applying slight pressure in certain places. A moment later, he let go of my leg and I instantly missed his touch.

"It feels fine," he informed me. I tried to feel glad.

"Jack—" it was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Yeah?" he questioned. _Ah, might as well get it over with. You _are_ going to die shortly, anyway. It's not going to matter, no matter what he says._

"I love you," I blurted simply. There was a short silence while he was very probably collecting his thoughts that I'd blown all to hell by admitting what I just had.

"Kate…" he murmured. I could sense rejection coming and, being the coward I was, decided to cut it off before he could say it.

"It's okay," I said, "I don't mind if you don't feel the same for me. Really, it's o—" My voice shut off when two large, strong hands set themselves on either side of my face. _Jack? What are you—_

And then his lips were on mine. I melted into him instantly, leaning forward and managing to get my arms around his neck. I let down all my walls for this moment, allowing myself—for once—to be fully present and unguarded. _He'd better appreciate it,_ I thought wryly. I was baring my soul to him and he stood there with the dagger of rejection, easily able to slice me in half. But when we broke apart for air, he shooed away my fears.

"I love you, too," he told me softly.

* * *

The moment was over far too soon. The door whipped open bathing us in light and displaying two very entwined persons to a rather embarrassed guard. He wasted only a second before demanding that we get up and come with him. Reluctantly, I disentangled myself from Jack and together we stood. 

Slowly, we followed the armed man into the corridor and up several narrow staircases, and out door to a large courtyard. Five more soldiers met us there and brought us through the growing crowd of citizens to a raised platform. We were forced up the steps onto the podium and pushed against the tall wooden stake in the centre.

Oh god.

Fear surged through me. This was it. We would burn, right here, right now.

Oh god ohgodohgod…

I stood petrified as ropes were strung around us, binding us to the pillar, and only after they'd been tied tight did I finally recover control of my brain and begin to struggle. I strained against the cords, but they held strong and I failed to even free my arms.

"Kate," Jack said quietly, "Kate, it's no use."

"Don't tell me it's no use," I hissed, and kept fighting, desperation growing. My voice rose and broke as I repeated, "Don't tell me it's no use!" I writhed for another moment and then fell still with a defeated sob. Jack said nothing more and gradually a very strange feeling of calm washed over me, like a huge bank of clouds.

I read a book once, back in school when I was ten or eleven. It was in French, a language we were all supposed to learn but one I'd never been any good at. There was a character, the _monsieur cramoisi _(whose name I, to this day, have never understood—directly translated, it means crimson mister) who was called a mushroom because he had never smelled a flower, never looked at a star, and had never loved anyone.

As bundles of twigs were stacked around the podium, some overflowing onto our bare feet, I was no longer afraid. I was not crimson mister , I was not a mushroom. I'd smelled a flower and I'd looked at a star, and I'd been in love. I managed to find Jack's hand and squeezed it tight. I had been in love.

The crowd fell silent as a torch was dropped into the wood. Flames leapt up surprisingly quickly, spreading up toward us. The heat grew as air whooshed past us to feed the fire. As I began to feel light-headed from a lack of oxygen, the skin of my legs started to peel. I opened my mouth to cry out but no sound came, and then the world went black.

* * *

I opened my eyes to see trees above me. I blinked several times and squinted into the light, my mind completely blank. Where was I? I put a hand to my forehead and noticed I was wearing a shirt I hadn't seen since… 

Since Jack and Danielle had taken it from me in exchange for a dress. Everything rushed back and I _remembered_. I remembered everything, right up to the burning. The burning. I should be dead. I looked around at the tropical jungle surrounding me. This sure didn't look like hell.

Slowly, I got to my feet, fighting off waves of dizziness, and staggered in a random direction. Soon, I heard what sounded like the ocean and headed for that, and before long I burst through the edge of the trees, rubbing my wrists that were red and raw, though I didn't know why. There was a man sitting on a rock, twisted around to look at something on his back. He turned as my feet crunched dried leaves and fallen branches, and my eyes widened.

"Excuse me!" called Jack, "Have you ever used a needle?"

**L**** O S T**


End file.
